


Second Time Around.

by springburn



Series: Random musings from The Capaldi character file. [21]
Category: Peter Capaldi fandom (not RPF), The Hour
Genre: 1950's, Angst and Feels, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, One Night Stand, Past Lives, Peter Capaldi character file, Unplanned Pregnancy, illicit affairs, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 36,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Randall has finally plucked up the courage to ask Bel for a drink.....he is quite surprised when she accepts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> This story carries on from the little ficlet I wrote and posted on my tumblr blog about a month ago. I was asked by several people of it could be made into a longer story. 
> 
> Thanks to a wonderful idea from my very good friend @misswinterseat it is now taking shape. 
> 
> I love Randall. 
> 
> Fact! 
> 
> He is just beautiful. One of Peter's characters that has such depth. 
> 
> I have attempted to make this story as authentic to the time as I possibly can. The news stories are real, although they may not necessarily occur in the order that they occurred in real life. They are mainly from my mother's memories. 
> 
> The story is set in 1957. After the Suez Crisis, which is dealt with in series one. This story follows the end of series two. 
> 
> There will be mention of the Spanish Civil War, later in the piece. I will give more information on that at the time. 
> 
> Quite a bit of research has also gone into this, as I was keen to give a flavour of the mindset of the fifties and step right away from 21st century thinking, morality, speech and expectations. 
> 
> It was a different world. 
> 
> And I've tried my best to capture that. 
> 
>  
> 
> (The originally posted ficlet is marked by *)

SECOND TIME AROUND. 

CHAPTER ONE  
THE MEETING.

 

*Voices, all chattering at once. 

The air in the meeting room was a fug of cigarette smoke, and a strong smell of malt whiskey.  
Randall's face remained impassive amid the banter, as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips, sipped, and replaced it carefully. 

Bel found herself watching him surreptitiously from under her long lashes.  
His precise movement fascinated her. Long elegant fingers swivelling the handle so that it was at exactly three o clock, ready for his right hand.  
He began drumming rhythmically on the desk top in front of him, whilst listening intently to the lively exchanges between his colleagues. 

She rose, picking up the plate of Bourbons, offering him one. 

His eyes lifted slowly and he regarded her curiously over the top of his dark rimmed spectacles. 

"No, thank you." He said, primly, with a minute shake of the head.

"Oh go on! Live dangerously!" She thrust the biscuits closer. 

"I'm more of a Digestive man." 

His gaze fastened on her mouth for a moment, taking in the crimson painted lips, then darting upwards, their eyes meeting for the merest second, before he looked quickly away. 

A flush came to his cheeks, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

"Shall we continue?" He rose, pushing back his seat and tapping his coffee cup with his spoon.

The prattle faded, gradually falling to silence.

Everyone's attention was drawn towards him. 

"So! We are going with the Gromyko story then?" The overall hubbub gathered momentum again, as opposing factions tried to state their case. 

Randall held his hands aloft, waiting patiently until the noise subsided. 

"Since you cannot agree amongst yourselves, I shall take the casting vote. We run with the Andrei Gromyko article. Hector? We push 'Ambassador turns Soviet Foreign Minister' slant and his disarmament stance; it's interesting, it's newsworthy......he's a fine negotiator, a trustworthy diplomat.  
There's sufficient material for a nice little slot, plus the Pathé film footage.  
Any questions?" 

A general hum of acceptance met his words, and with a little smile Randall Brown began to collect up his papers and files, as the meeting broke up and the others began to disperse. 

"Er, Miss Rowley?" Bel turned, almost as she reached the door, her hand poised on the handle. 

"I wonder, do you have a moment?" She retraced her steps, clutching her documents to her chest, standing before him, a little unsure.

"I wanted to ask........" He paused, then tried a different tack, "Would you think me terribly impertinent......?" 

Bel raised one eyebrow in mute question. 

"What I mean to say is.......I was hoping you would permit me to take you out for a drink?" 

If she was surprised, she hid it well. Her face coloured slightly, but she flashed him a sweet smile. 

"Why Mr Brown! Randall. That would be delightful. Thank you! Shall we say seven?" 

His hand placed gently on the small of her back as he held the door for her to pass through. 

"Seven it is!" *

oOo

It had been some months now. 

Since Freddie's death. 

Randall had found himself watching Bel closely. 

Although she still carried out her work with the same zeal, there was an innate sadness about her which worried him. 

At times he caught her gazing off into the distance, a far away look in her eyes, glazed and disconnected.  
There were also moments when she looked so inherently miserable, that she could be about to break down, tears balanced precariously on her lids. 

Randall was concerned for her. 

She was too young, too bright, and too beautiful for her life to be thus blighted. 

As his own had been.

By loss. 

They had each lost something so very dear to them. Such a deep and profound despair. 

Despite the difference in their ages, it drew Randall to her somehow.  
He knew exactly how she felt. More than anything he wished he could make her feel better, ease her pain. 

At first he'd dismissed these thoughts as those of a sentimental old fool. Why on earth would she want anything from him?  
Other than a working relationship. 

He was eighteen years her senior. Staid. Scarred by his past experiences, his memories staining his mind like nicotine on a smoker's fingers. 

There was a melancholy about him, deep seated. 

And yet........and yet........

Even as he made up his mind that there was little he could do for her beyond kindness in the working environment, she seemed to respond to him in a way he hadn't expected. 

He'd first noticed a change in her about six months after Freddie's funeral. Sharing a coffee together, she'd suddenly asked him why he'd never married. 

Taken by surprise he'd floundered slightly. He had, of course, married, albeit briefly. 

"The right girl didn't come along I suppose, or rather she did but I didn't act upon it, or circumstances didn't allow me too." He replied honestly. 

"The war?" She mused, rather aloud to herself than to him. 

"Yes, the War, amongst other things." He sipped his drink and replaced his cup carefully. 

"What about now?" She asked. 

"Now?" He peered at her over his spectacles. 

"If the right person came along now, would you consider it?" Her eyes scanned his face with interest. 

Randall smiled slightly. 

"Highly unlikely that someone will pop out of nowhere and be desperate to be married to me! I think that ship has probably sailed." 

"I don't think it's ever too late." She countered. "I think there is someone out there for everyone. Love sometimes appears when we least expect it." 

The conversation fizzled out. But it remained in his head. A seed sown, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. 

The second incident was when he'd walked into her office unannounced and found her in tears. 

She'd attempted to quickly control herself, turning away from him, sniffing, doing her best to stifle her sobs.  
Crossing the room to her, he'd offered his hanky. 

No words. 

Just a simple gesture. 

She accepted gratefully, dried her eyes. But the look she'd given him was one of longing and sadness. 

His chest ached with it, how he'd wanted to take her in his arms at that moment.  
But he couldn't.  
Just couldn't. 

There was nothing worse than unwelcome attention, and he was sure that that would be the case. 

She handed back the handkerchief. 

"Keep it." He said quietly. 

She had. Tucked it into her sleeve. 

And she'd hung on to it. He'd seen her using it several times. His initial monogrammed in red in one corner. 

Why? 

After that the incidences had become more frequent. Subtle.  
They'd had a conversation, and she'd mentioned a concert she'd seen advertised. 

"I'd love to go." She intimated. "But it's no fun going alone." 

So pointed, seemingly. 

Her beautiful eyes roving over his face, a question without words. 

Yet he demurred. 

Surely she didn't want _him_ to take her? That wasn't what she was asking, was it? 

Randall Brown was completely nonplussed. 

It was another week before his mind was finally made up. They'd travelled up West together on the trolley-bus.  
From Holborn Viaduct to Piccadilly. 

Seated side by side, he forgot why they'd done it, or where they were going. It was of no matter. 

Rain fell in torrents, they'd shared his large black umbrella. Ducked into the Criterion, to shelter from the worst.  
One arm linked through his, as they ran. 

Her proximity made him feel alive. Her Yardley perfume. Little pearl earrings. The curve of her neck beneath her silk scarf. 

Helping shrug off her dripping mackintosh, laughing at a drip of rainwater that had gone down the back of her neck.

He ordered hot chocolate. 

She sat very close. Shoulder to shoulder. 

Was this a thing? It definitely seemed to be a thing. 

No going back now, he'd asked her. After the meeting. 

Glancing at his wristwatch a little frisson of excitement rippled through him. 

It was almost seven.


	2. The Snug at The Crown.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall has taken Bel out for a drink......they finally have a chance to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pubs in Britain until at least the seventies were usually divided into two distinct and separate halves. The Public Bar (or spit and sawdust) would be more for the working man, to enjoy a pint. The Saloon Bar would be slightly smarter in decor, probably carpeted, where couples or single women could go. Some with a snug, or cosy area with seating and a fire. It was still not widely accepted or common for women to be seen in pubs, there was a certain implication, of respectability, particularly if they were unescorted.

CHAPTER TWO.  
THE SNUG AT THE CROWN.

The evening was warm and balmy. Only a light jacket necessary, and yet Randall was still bundled up in a raincoat.  
His hand was a guiding presence on Bel's back as they left the building together and walked briskly round the corner. 

Randall took a cab waiting at the Rank, and they were whisked away through the traffic, to be deposited outside The Crown, a quiet public house with a snug, that was a respectable distance from the studios and where they were unlikely to meet fellow workers or close colleagues. 

Taking her coat for her, and pulling out a chair, Randall reached into his mack pocket for his wallet. 

"Drink?" He asked politely. 

"G and T please." She replied, and with a perfunctory nod he headed off to the bar. 

Soon back with two glasses, one with a slice of lemon, the other looking suspiciously cloudy. 

"What's that?" Bel enquired, with a slight twist of the mouth. 

"Ginger beer, with a dash of lime cordial. I like it." He answered, raising the glass to his mouth and sipping appreciatively. 

"Don't you drink at all?" She offered her own glass to chink with his and took a large gulp, smacking her lips with satisfaction. 

"Not anymore." His voice had a hint of sadness but he turned and gave a slight smile. 

"Should I ask why, or would that be prying?" She continued, studying her highball with rapt attention. 

"It's just my choice, my father was a drinker, and not a very good one. I was going the same way, so decided enough was enough. That's it really." His reply was matter of fact, but he gazed wistfully around the room as he spoke. 

"Was he in the Great War, your father?" She probed gently. 

"He was. Royal Scots Regiment. He was a Lewis Gunner. Fought on the Somme and at Vimy Ridge. It was when he came home he began to drink rather too freely. Rather a morbid drunk, not violent. Couldn't live with it all no doubt. There were many who couldn't." He swallowed heavily, then took a deep breath as if to cleanse himself of the memory somehow. 

"What about you, though Bel, how are you doing now?" His pale lapis eyes seemed to search hers, as if begging her not to ask more of him. She found it hard to meet his gaze steadily. 

"I'm not sure." She shrugged. "I just find myself thinking about _him_ at odd moments, catches me out, you know?" 

"Yes. I do know. Only too well. Like there's something missing. A hole that can't be filled." Randall placed his hand over hers gently and gave a little squeeze. 

They sat thus for a few moments, before he pulled his hand away. 

"Will you stay? At The Hour?" He asked. 

"I think so. I want to. Depends on......on........well, it depends." Pausing, she turned to him once more. "It was kind of you to ask me for a drink. I'm glad you did." 

"I didn't want you to think I was.......well, you know.......being too forward......" He hesitated. 

"Randall, I hardly think that you taking me out for a drink, is being forward! Perish the thought! If I hadn't wanted to come, I could easily have said no." Her smile was warm and reassuring. 

"It was just something Lix said, she scolded me, to put me in my place I suppose. But she's right of course. I shouldn't allow myself to be foolish." 

Bel's eyebrows raised, and she turned sideways in her seat to face towards him. 

"What did Lix say?" Her voice a tad higher. 

"Oh, something about me being old enough to be your father! She has a point, naturally. Perhaps she thought I was being a bit silly over you." 

Bel huffed crossly. 

"Sounds more like an attack of the green eyed monster to me!" She declared. 

"Oh I don't think so." He said evenly. "I think she just wanted me to be on my guard. Against any impropriety. Perhaps she doubted my motives." 

A scoff of indignation left Bel, and she wrapped her fingers around his tightly, still turned towards him and looking into his face fiercely. 

"Your motives? Good God Randall! I'm not a child. How dare she? You're a perfect gentleman. You always are! You would never press your advantage. What a cruel thing to say! Why should you not have hopes, or expectations? Is there an age limit on such things? Lord! I could spit!" 

Randall looked down at their two hands, the fingers interlocked, then back at her clouded face, the brows knitted in annoyance, eyes still blazing. 

"The fact remains...." He responded, gently. "That society frowns upon such things, and I wouldn't subject you to anything which would cause you pain."

"Oh hang society!" She retorted. 

"Oh dear! This is what I was afraid of. And why I've hung back for so long, it was a very bad idea, and I'm sorry. You are a lovely young woman Bel. So bright and shining. You deserve so much, much more than this old fool could ever give you......Freddie was......."

She interrupted, cutting him off. 

"Freddie was......never mine. He never would be. I loved him, but he's gone. I'm not sure what I deserve Randall.....if anything at all........but I know what I want, and who I want......and I don't care a fig about all the rest......."

Randall patted her hand, then returned to swivelling his glass round and round as it stood on its beer mat.  
Staring at it thoughtfully. 

"Well, say something......" She pressed. 

"I think perhaps I should see you safely home." He said eventually. 

"Rubbish! I can see myself home! Let's not leave just yet. Let's have one for the road?" 

The face that turned to look at hers was so pained, such yearning behind the eyes, a sadness that cut her deeply. 

"Randall! Please. Be assured. I want to be here. I've _wanted_ to be here.......with you.......please don't concern yourself too much with the logistics of it. We've been through a bloody war, people fought and died, were scarred and maimed...... _everyone_ deserves a little happiness. Everyone." 

"I thought that too......once. But it proved elusive. I've become conditioned to disappointment."  
He adjusted his spectacles on his nose pointlessly. 

"Not that it's important, but you are very handsome, and you are gentle and kind. I could do with that right now." 

A tiny smile played across his lips, and he breathed a long puff of air out through them slowly.  
His chest sinking inwards as he did so. A great weight, a ball of anxiety, a bolus of fear sitting across his sternum. 

"So I'm not a fool to dream, to long for........to hope?" He whispered. 

"No, Randall. You are not. No more than I." She smiled, releasing her grip on his fingers. 

"I think we should go now. It's late. We have a long day tomorrow." He sighed, draining his glass and replacing it carefully in the centre of the mat. 

"Alright Mr Brown! But no more of this nonsense. You are not making a fool of yourself. Your attentions are not unwelcome. If they were, I would tell you so. Let's get that quite clear from the outset." 

Together they stood and he helped her on with her jacket. Gathering his own from the rack. 

"Aren't you hot in that damn mack? It's very warm outside." 

"I always wear it." He responded, looking down at himself with a frown. 

"Winter and summer?" She laughed. 

"I suppose. I like to be prepared for all meteorological possibilities!" He said, with conviction, as he opened the door for her and they emerged onto the street. 

"You really don't have to see me home Randall. I'll be fine." She said, as they turned the corner towards the main thoroughfare. "I can hop on the bus." 

"The very idea!" He retorted, stepping to the curb and holding his arm aloft. "TAXI!"


	3. Something, Anything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Friday evening show of The Hour is ready for transmission. 
> 
> Randall asks to speak to Bel. He would like to take her out properly, unfortunately Lix has something to say about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laurence Olivier's performance as failing Music Hall star Archie Rice in The Entertainer (a play by John Osborne, whose previous success had been Look Back in Anger) was highly acclaimed. It transferred from The Royal Court to The Palace Theatre in 1957.

CHAPTER THREE.  
SOMETHING, ANYTHING.

_"........and ready for transmission in 3.......2.......1......."_

_"Camera two on you Hector......."_

The red lightbulb and the "ON AIR" sign over the door to the booth flicked on.

_"Good Evening. Welcome to The Hour."_

_".......camera three zooming in on 3......2.......1"_

_"Our headline tonight......_

_Andrei Gromyko, former ambassador to both the United States and Great Britain has, this week been appointed Minister for Foreign Affairs._  
_Following a long and distinguished diplomatic career Mr Gromyko took no part in the recent attempted coup to oust President Khrushchev and the Soviet Leadership._  
_A member since last year of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, he took the oath of office today at a ceremony in the Kremlin......."_

_".........cutting to Pathé news reel. And back to you in thirty seconds Hector."_

 

oOo

"Miss Rowley, might I see you before you leave?" Randall spoke over his shoulder as he headed away from her down the corridor. 

"Of course, just give me a few moments to finish up. Your office?" Bel was busily gathering together her various notes and papers, hurriedly swigging from a cup of stone cold tea, with a grimace. 

"When you're ready." He replied, and disappeared from view. 

"Still prowling Randall?" Lix met him in the corridor, a cigarette dangling from between two fingers. 

"Let me be Lix. It really isn't any of your business." She fell into step beside him, but he stood his ground in his office doorway blocking her path. 

"I'm not completely heartless you know!" She retorted, taking a long drag on her fag, before blowing the smoke to one side. "I can see you like her, but I know you......you get a bee in your bonnet, and end up being broken." 

"Ha!" He laughed easily. "Like with you, you mean!" 

"My dear Randall! I know I hurt you, we hurt each other. But it was the circumstances, everything was wrong. The timing. The situation. Our jobs......."

She moved to one side, as Bel rounded the corner of the corridor and came towards them. 

"She's dead Lix. Gone. And I need something. Anything. Let me try for that at least." He hissed sharply. 

"She needs someone her own age. Not an old fossil like you! It can't end well." She countered, grinding the cigarette butt onto the tiled floor, then bending to retrieve it. 

"Leave it Miss Storm! I'll see you on Monday." His voice louder now as Bel was within earshot. 

The older woman peeled away, with a smile to her female counterpart. 

"Have a nice weekend!" She beamed, and was gone. 

Bel watched her go with narrowed eyes, then directed her attention to Randall, following him through the now open door, and closing it behind her. 

"What was that all about?" She challenged. "Who's dead?" 

Randall's eyes widened, but he didn't reply. 

"Randall?" She asked, a little more forcefully. 

"I heard you say 'she's dead', I didn't hear what Lix said, but I'll be willing to bet it was about me.....and more to the point......you......! Well?" Her question a confrontation now. 

"It's not something I can, or want, to talk about." He responded, calmly. "Perhaps one day, but not now. It's not the time. Or the place." 

The entire time he spoke, Randall Brown feverishly rearranged the contents of his desk top.  
He straightened files, placed pens in horizontal line, removed and re-sited his folding wooden ruler, realigned his desk clock and eraser. Lifting the receiver on the telephone, he turned it so that the chord was to the left. His long dexterous fingers gripping and releasing each item in turn, then returning to the first piece and starting over again.  
Bel watched him, fascinated, before stepping closer and placing both her hands over his own, to still them. 

"Stop." She said, softly. "Randall. It's alright. I sense there's a history between you two. But I don't want to know. Okay? I don't care." 

His eyes were raised slowly, his face stricken. His hands still captured by her's and unable to fiddle. 

"I'm sorry." He breathed. 

"Don't be. What did you want to see me for anyway?" She smiled gently. 

For a moment he looked confused, then seemed to remember, and pulled his hands out from beneath hers quickly. 

"I have tickets, for tomorrow, an evening performance of The Entertainer, starring Olivier, at the Palace Theatre.  
I thought perhaps we could have a spot of dinner first? If you are willing that is." 

His head drooped, as if prepared for rejection. 

Her face changed, the smile widening. 

"That would be lovely. I would look forward to it. Thank you so much !" 

"Shall I pick you up? Say about four-thirty? Five? The play starts at seven thirty." His own face now eager and hopeful. 

"Four-thirty! So we don't have to rush. I'll be ready!.......And Randall?" She bent her head towards him slightly, so as to look him in the eye.

"Yes?" 

"Don't listen to her. You're not an old fossil." She whispered, her lips close to his ear.

"You said you didn't hear what she.........." His words were lost as she headed for the door with a wave of her hand.

".......Night Randall. See you tomorrow!" 

The door closed behind her with a click. 

oOo

The vision that emerged from her flat as the taxi waited outside was quite something to behold.  
Black cocktail dress with a wide skirt, cinched in at the waist. Complimenting her blonde hair, which was soft and loose at the back but curled and pinned up at the front.  
Pearls at her throat.  
Court shoes. 

Beautiful. 

"You okay?" She asked with a smile. 

"Stunned, actually!" He returned. 

She laughed merrily, and took his arm. 

They dined at Luigi's in Covent Garden, surrounded by the many autographed photographs of the stars and celebrities who'd eaten there, which were displayed around the walls. 

After the play, they emerged into Shaftesbury Avenue, her face shining. 

"Wasn't he wonderful?" She breathed. 

"Who?" He replied, seeing her across the street. 

"Larry Olivier of course! Marvellous. I so enjoyed it Randall.....really I did! Thank you so much."

She took his arm again, linking her own through his as they walked. 

"What now? Shall I take you home?" He enquired, thoroughly pleased. 

He saw her face fall. 

"It's early yet, but I'm not allowed gentleman callers after 10pm. My landlady is most strict about it." She replied, with an air of disappointment. 

"Well, we could go to my home. Have a nightcap or a coffee. Then I'll get you a taxi home." 

Bel tugged him a little closer. 

"That sounds like a capital idea." 

Randall's home was typical of 1930's metro land. Bay windows to top and bottom. Front door with coloured glass above, semi detached, a relatively smart area. 

"What will your neighbours say? You bringing a woman home?" She asked as they walked up the front path. 

"I doubt they'll notice!" He laughed. "This house belonged to my parents, they bought it before the war. My neighbours are elderly, and they don't spend their evenings curtain twitching!" 

Unlocking the door they stepped inside. 

Pleasant, spotlessly clean, scrupulously tidy, if somewhat faded, Bel glanced around her as Randall lead her through the hallway to the back kitchen. 

"Nice house." She commented appreciatively. 

"It's alright. The next street was hit by a Doodlebug in 1944, blew all the windows out." He replied, conversationally. 

Filling the kettle he lit the gas burner on the Belling cooker with a match and turned to find cups and saucers.  
There was a large frigidaire in the corner, from which he procured a bottle of milk, popping the silver foil top with his thumb and adding a dash to each cup.  
A twin tub washing machine doubled as a worktop next to the sink and there was a small table and two chairs.

As he turned to ask if she would like sugar, he realised she was weeping. 

The shock was palpable, as she'd seemed so happy. 

"Bel?" He asked, moving closer. 

For several seconds she sniffed audibly, trying unsuccessfully to regain control. 

"What is it?" He whispered. 

"It's nothing. I'm just being silly......." She began, then buried her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking. 

His arms came around her then, gathering her close, she pressed her face against his chest.  
He allowed her to sob quietly, for several minutes, not speaking, not moving.  
Except for one hand rubbing her back gently. 

The scent of him, his warmth, his tenderness, seemed to unleash the floodgates.  
She cried all the harder, seemingly inconsolable. 

Guiding her out of the room, into the front lounge he directed her to sit, and took a seat on the settee beside her, not relinquishing his embrace for one second. 

"It's alright Bel. You cry. Let it out. I know what it's like. Believe me." His voice was soft, kindly, and she responded to it instantly.

"I don't even know why I'm crying." She managed to blurt out. "But I hadn't really, not at all, not until now." 

"I understand." He whispered. 

"Randall.......?" 

She raised her face to his, her eyes still leaking hot salty tears. Their noses almost touching.  
He could feel her breath warm and sweet against his cheek, heavy lidded eyes focused on his mouth. 

"Kiss me......" 

Bending his head very slightly, he obeyed, allowing his lips to brush hers with a whisper light touch.  
She gasped into him, pressing herself against his body urgently, returning the kiss with interest.  
Insistent, desperate, needy.  
Sobs still hitching in her chest from time to time. 

The rush of blood to his head took him quite by surprise and he pulled back, breathing heavily. 

"Please Randall. Please. I want......I need.....to feel something, anything." 

"Oh Bel.......I do too, but every fibre of my being tells me that this is wrong." 

Her reply was to renew her assault just as strongly, her lips burning against his own. 

With a whimper of surrender, and to his eternal shame, Randall gave in.


	4. Passion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lovely evening together has ended at Randall's house. 
> 
> Bel is desperate to feel something other than sorrow, following Freddie's death. 
> 
> She begs Randall to kiss her.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much felt that Randall would instantly regret his actions. He would feel he'd let himself down by succumbing to 'weakness' and that he would be concerned and doubtful of the success of their relationship. I've tried to get across what I feel would have gone through his mind.

CHAPTER FOUR.   
PASSION. 

Upstairs in the darkened bedroom.   
They undressed together by the pale light from a bedside lamp. 

Unable to separate from each other, kissing as she undid the buttons of his waistcoat, loosened his tie, helped him remove his shirt.   
Presenting her back to him and holding up her hair, she revealed the nape of her beautiful neck, just begging to be kissed, as he unzipped her. 

Letting her dress fall down around her feet. 

Her skin so pale, so beautiful. 

There was an urgency in both of them, a heat which neither party had thought or inclination to fight against. 

Standing together, pressed against one another.   
He in his white vest, braces and trousers, she in her petticoat, brassiere and knickers. 

Bel reached up and gently removed his spectacles, folding them and setting them carefully aside, almost prim, meticulous. 

His hands smoothed down her arms, making her shiver at the caress, she, finding his mouth again, kissing, releasing, then kissing again, his frenzy of nips and little bites against her throat and neck, as she exposed it to him, sliding the straps of her underwear down. 

Whispers of want from her, panting gasps from him. Unable to control himself and not wishing to. 

Unfastening his trouser fly with trembling fingers, their eyes locked, slipping the braces from his shoulders, he felt her small hand slide inside, palming his erection through his cotton pants. 

He knew that Bel had experienced sex before. Lix had told him of her illicit affair with Hector.  
Part of him wondered at the attraction there, but then _all_ of him wondered at the attraction now. 

Pulling away from him she crawled onto the bed, laying on her back, arms held out, inviting him down onto her. 

Lowering himself, his body between her legs, keeping them apart. His hand moving slowly up her toned thigh, feeling the sheer fabric of her stockings, her suspenders, and the wet heat of her core. 

"Bel! Bel!" He whispered, letting his fingers gently explore her. 

Moans came from her at the glorious sensation, lifting herself towards his questing touch. 

"Randall please!" She begged again. "I need to feel you, I want you, so badly."

With his trousers still round his ankles, he reached inside his underwear, taking himself out, allowing her to touch him again, straining hard now, leaking, pushing against her palm, wanting only to feel the warmth of her, and to bury himself inside her softness. 

She cried out when he entered her, and he stilled, afraid he'd caused her pain, but she arched her body, forcing him deeper inside and he almost released there and then, so intense was the moment.  
He paused for a second, calming himself.   
Beginning to move then, slowly at first, building speed, pushing further with each thrust. 

His breath short and tight, as she gasped and whimpered beneath him, he could tell she was close, as her fingers clawed the skin on his back, marking him and driving him onwards.  
She came with a series of little cries, saying his name under her breath, dragging him over the edge in her wake.   
The veins and sinews in his neck taut as a bowstring, as he pumped his life force into her, giving her everything. 

Making her feel everything. 

His desire, his seed, his love. 

Collapsing forwards, his head nestling into her neck. She held him fast, her breath harsh and fast beside his ear.   
So close. 

As one. 

The shattering realisation of what they had just done, not yet hitting him. Nothing now, but the feeling of thankfulness, of a great weight being lifted. A completion. 

They slept, entwined. Her golden head on the pillow next to his. 

Waking, still clasped in each other's arms the following morning. 

oOo

Randall was in his woollen dressing gown and slippers. 

Four slices of toast under the grill. 

The kettle whistling insistently. 

It had happened. 

He couldn't pretend it hadn't.

Oh God! 

A huge mistake.

Every moral argument, his sense of propriety, her reputation. All were at stake. 

This beautiful young woman, his mistress? It was sordid, base, unthinkable. How had he allowed this to happen? 

Where was his self control?   
Succumbing to animal instinct.   
He had been weak in the extreme.   
Allowing himself to be bowled over, carried away in a haze of primal lust, a moment of madness.

Randall Brown felt as if he had somehow sullied her. Taken advantage of her emotional state. 

He was ashamed. 

Deeply so. 

And what of The Hour? 

Should anyone find out, she would be vilified. He didn't care for himself or what people thought of him, although they would undoubtedly think him the lowest of the low. 

But for Bel.......sleeping with her superior? It was the worst possible scenario.   
Her position could be compromised. 

Branded a slut. No better than she should be. He couldn't bear that.  
Lix had been right, it could not and would not end well. 

Better to put an end to it now, before more damage was done. 

But how to tell her? How to make her understand? How bad he felt, how wrong it was to love her. 

And, God help him, he did love her, so very much. 

oOo

Lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Bel felt deliciously fulfilled. The dampness between her legs the only real indication of what they'd shared.

She stretched like a cat, sitting up. From somewhere downstairs she could hear movement, he was already up and about.   
Slipping out of bed she headed for the bathroom. 

Sticking in the plug and turning on both taps. She ran the bath and lowered herself gratefully into its depths. Leaning back with a sigh.   
Closing her eyes, the vision was of his face hovering above her, the desire in his eyes, his pleasure, mixed with her pleasure, it gave her a pleasant warm feeling right to her core.   
The warm water soothed her. 

This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. She was in love with him, she knew that now, had known it for a little while. 

Drying herself she hunted about for something suitable to wear. 

The smell of toast filtered up the stairs. She was suddenly ravenously hungry. 

Bel shuffled into the kitchen, yawning. Her hair delightfully disheveled, wearing nothing but his striped pyjama top, buttoned low on her breast, just covering her derrière. 

That first sight of her almost melted his resolve. 

But in his heart of hearts he knew this couldn't be, it was against every code he'd ever lived by, every rule he'd set for himself after he and Lix had gone their separate ways, all those years ago. 

That way madness lay. 

Madness and heartbreak. 

He couldn't go through that again. He couldn't do that to her. 

He didn't deserve her, and she deserved so much better. 

Someone young. Whole. Not damaged as he was. Someone she could grow old with, someone who was not him. 

Randall Brown was about to be a perfect gentleman. As only he knew how. 

Do the chivalrous thing. The right thing. Save her......from him, from herself, her reputation, her career.....

Her soul.


	5. Interregnum.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before, and Randall is having second thoughts, he drops a bombshell on Bel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prime Minister Anthony Eden resigned in January 1957 following the end of the Suez crisis. He cited ill health, although most were of the opinion that he was 'persuaded' to go before he was pushed.
> 
> The case of John Bodkin Adams was a huge news story in 1957 which my mother has told me about.  
> It caused quite a stir at the time.

CHAPTER FIVE.  
INTERREGNUM. 

He turned towards her as he heard her step behind him.  
She was about to comment on how different he looked, his hair free from the rigid constraints of Brylcreem.  
Softer, with little curls on top of his head.  
Bel opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short.

"Good morning, you look..........."

His mien grave. Sober, and.......

"..........guilty." She concluded ruefully.

"Bel.......I........" He held out a cup of tea which she ignored pointedly at first, staring into his face, all her thoughts of a few moments before vanished in a puff of smoke.  
She said nothing, but continued to gaze at him, a mixture of hurt and pain at the inevitability drifting across her face. 

He searched desperately for the right words. 

"I feel awful Bel. And I'm sorry, so sorry.......that I allowed this to happen. It was wrong of me. I am completely at fault, not you......I should have put a stop to it........but I was weak. I let it continue....."

She stopped him.

"So you regret what happened?" She asked simply. 

"Bel, it was wonderful......but it simply cannot be. We work side by side, I am your superior. A good deal older than you. In today's society people would probably pat me on the back and say, "well done Sir! Lucky you!" But you would be the worst of women, one step up from a whore on the street. It would utterly destroy you, and everything you've worked so hard to achieve. "Sleeping her way to the top!" They'd say. And I cannot do it, it's just wrong. Lix said to me that no good could come of it......and she was right. Best we stop it now before too much damage is done, before we hurt one another, don't you think? Before we are in too deep and it's too late......."

Her face wobbled dramatically as she fought for control. Her hands balled into fists at her side. 

"I'm already in deep. And it's already too late......" She whispered. 

Carefully she placed the cup on the draining board, and turned on her heel, running up the stairs two at a time. 

Once there she stripped off angrily, throwing the pyjama top aside, onto the bed they'd so recently shared, and struggled into her evening clothes from the night before. Tears coursing unnoticed down her face as she dressed.

Randall, meanwhile stood motionless, leaning heavily against the sink, his eyes closed. Head down. 

In moments she was back, her shoes in her hand. Handbag under her arm, with her stockings stuffed inside. 

"You know what Randall?" She cried, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look at her.  
"Lix was wrong. She's jealous of me for whatever reason. She has some stupid bloody agenda of her own. And _you're_ wrong about last night......last night wasn't the mistake........THIS is the mistake.......this right here. Turning your back on us, sending me away with a flea in my ear.  
You think I'm a silly young girl who doesn't know what she really wants......but _you_ are a silly old man who's afraid to feel anything......lest it interfere with his calm and balanced exterior.  
By remaining aloof you seek to gain respect.......well you've just lost mine." 

She turned and walked away down the hall, pausing only to push her feet into her shoes.

"Bel......don't......not like this.......we can still be friends.......at least let me get a taxi........" He stammered. 

The fury that met him was frightening in its intensity. 

"Friends? Oh! Spare me your damn gallantry! I'll get the bloody bus. Like the miserable little slut I am!" She hissed, and slammed the street door behind her. 

oOo

Bel's anger lasted until the bus came around the corner, and she stuck out her arm. It remained as she took her seat and fumbled for a sixpence for the fare inside her handbag.  
Inside she seethed as she caught the baleful glare of the elderly woman in the headscarf seated opposite her.  
Her eyes on Bel's bare legs, and the evening attire she was wearing at nine in the morning.  
Shaking her head and tutting in disgust. 

Bel held her stare defiantly for a few seconds, then quailed, and cast her eyes down in shame. 

Reaching home, she let herself into her flat, her landlady coming into the hallway as she did so, no doubt to ask her where she thought she'd been all night, and why she hadn't come home. But Bel wasn't in need of a lecture, she slipped inside her own place without passing so much as the time of day. Locking her door behind her, and flinging herself down, distraught, onto her bed. 

oOo

"Can I have a little hush please!" 

Randall waited patiently as the usual hubbub at the daily meeting died down. 

"Now obviously the big news is Eden's resignation. Apparently due to ill health.....now if that isn't the most diplomatic of fevers, I don't know what is......but there.......nothing to be done now. He's history. 

I suggest we begin the programme with a short précis of his 'illustrious' career and then focus the rest of the slot on MacMillan." 

Randall turned to Lix. 

"Miss Storm, I would like you to come in on this too. I know you are working on the Asian Flu pandemic but I need all hands on deck for this one."

Lix, puffed on her cigarette and nodded cordially. 

"What angle do you want? What do we know about him? A little biography perhaps?" She enquired. 

"That's the ticket! Grenadier Guard in the Great War I believe, wounded and partially paralysed, always good to have the human angle as a good starting point.  
What do you think Miss Rowley, could you see if we any film footage that's usable in the Archive?" 

Bel had been gazing distractedly out of the window. Not paying attention to the talk in the room. 

In the days and weeks since their infamous tryst she and Randall had circled each other warily. 

There had been several occasions when he'd clearly wished to speak to her alone. But she resolutely shut him out. She could not forgive him for doing the same to her.  
When he walked into the room, she invariably walked out. Unless others were present. 

Her mind seemed frozen in a moment. The moment she'd come beneath him, and the way she'd felt in those few precious seconds of time. So alive. Whole. Cherished, in a way she'd never felt before and doubted she'd ever feel again. Completely loved. 

Then it was as if he'd thrown a bucket of cold water over her. 

Her days were a torment. Seeing him each day. Knowing what had passed between them.  
A haze of memory she clung to and couldn't set aside, and didn't wish to. 

Not a moment passed when she didn't think of him. His arms around her, lips touching hers. The sensual joy of him moving inside her. 

At work she had trouble focussing, distracted and melancholy.  
Others noticed her mood, but had been slapped down instantly when they'd enquired. She'd spoken barely two words to Lix, who was previously a close confidante.  
Sensing her inner turmoil and guessing it was to do either with her indirectly, or Mr Brown, Lix had left her colleague to her own devises, after her attempts to engage in conversation were met with cold indifference. 

"Miss Rowley?" 

The sound of her name in Randall's voice, made Bel jump, staring around her at the assembled company, who's eyes were all focused her way.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She mumbled. 

"The archive? Do we have any old footage of Macmillan we can use?" Randall was slightly irritated at her lack of attention, no matter what their circumstances he expected professionalism and Bel seemed barely to be in the room. 

"I beg your pardon....." Bel rose to her feet shakily. "Please excuse me, I....I feel unwell." 

Her vision swam. Zig zags in front of her eyes.  
She made a bolt for the door, reaching the ladies lavatory, just in time. 

Faint. 

Clammy and sweating, leaning heavily against the cubicle door. For a few moments she thought she may pass out, but it gradually subsided and she splashed her face with cold water, then sipped a cool draft from her cupped hands thirstily, raising her eyes and staring unseeing at her own reflection in the mirror. 

The pale face gazed back at her. Dark circles beneath the eyes. 

What on earth was she doing? 

Pull yourself together Bel. She told herself firmly. She took a few deep breaths, blowing out through her lips. 

Smoothing her skirt and tidying her hair, she rejoined the others. 

"So sorry!" She said with a brevity she didn't feel. "I've had an upset stomach, I just needed a drink of water." 

oOo

The Hour were covering the next big story of the moment. 

The acquittal of suspected serial killer John Bodkin Adams.  
The programme were being leaned on heavily to not report all the facts, and Randall was convinced there was involvement and interference from the new Macmillan government. 

The beginning of the week meeting that Monday was vocal in the extreme. 

"I can't bloody believe it!" Hector raged. "Since 1946 there have been more than 160 of his patients dying in suspicious circumstances.....and yet they acquit him? It stinks to high heaven." 

"What I can't get over is that they've closed the files on the case for 75 years. Someone doesn't want us to know something!" Randall replied softly. 

"Old Roland Gwynne is in it up to his arm pits!" Maddon shot back. 

Lix swung round in her seat and reached for the ashtray. 

"And as for the Attorney-General Hartley Shawcross he's as guilty as sin too." She rejoined. 

"Well, questions are being asked in Parliament. Someone is keen to investigate an alleged abuse of process, by Judge Devlin. The prosecution have handled it so badly. I'm not surprised he was acquitted!" 

Bel's voice was so quiet, that everyone else in the room had forgotten she was even there. 

Both Randall and Hector turned to look at her at the same moment. 

Lix had noticed how drawn and tired Bel had seemed over the last few weeks, she was certain the young woman had lost weight.  
Miss Storm was a clever and resourceful woman, and so she began to observe her younger colleague carefully.  
She wasn't eating much, that was soon obvious. Pining no doubt! 

There had been no Entente Cordiale between the two women. Instead there was an uneasy stand off.  
Bel was convinced that Lix Storm had in some way influenced Randall's decision regarding their relationship and as such had nothing to say to her, as the destroyer of all her potential happiness. 

"Bel dear, can we have a word?" It was lunchtime when she chose to tackle her estranged friend.

"What is it?" Bel replied tartly. 

"I was just wondering.......please don't think I'm being nosey, but I am concerned.....what ails you?" 

No doubt the inquiry was meant kindly enough, but Bel was instantly prickly. 

"What do you mean?" She countered defensively.

"My dear, for the last couple of months you've been like a lovesick puppy. You've taken your eye off the ball. If you are going to do this job, and do it properly, you need to stop sighing and dying and focus properly on your work." Lix's eyes narrowed as she scrutinised the young woman carefully. 

"How very kind of you to be so concerned for me!" She retorted sarcastically. "I assure you I'm fine. I've just had a stomach upset lately, and it's taken me a while to recover. There is no need for you to be worried for me, I don't require your concern, or anyone else's. Now if you'll excuse me I need to get on, I'm meeting Detective Superintendent Hannam of Scotland Yard, about the Adams case. I haven't time for a tête à tête with you just now!" 

Bel brushed Lix aside and stormed out of the lunch room. 

Once inside the cloakroom, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself for a moment. 

Damn this feeling of faintness that had been plaguing her, and the vague nausea that stunted her appetite. 

From her handbag she took her pocket diary where she kept a note of her menstrual cycle. 

Perhaps she was due, or rather overdue, she'd forgotten, lost track of time. Flicking the pages, a cold hand clutched her heart.  
Way overdue, in fact almost a second month round. 

Bel clutched at the sink in fear, a wave of sickness in the pit of her stomach.

Oh good God! 

It couldn't possibly be true, there must be some mistake.  
Was it almost two months since her night of passion with Randall? She'd been so busy, she'd hardly had time to even take note of her periods. There had been times in the past when they'd been unreliable, surely this was just one of those times. 

Bel sat on the toilet seat, with the cubicle door shut. Numb with shock. 

What on earth was she to do?


	6. Past and Present.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall is in his office, bone tired. His mind slips back to old times.
> 
> Bel has some very serious thinking to do, she has to think about her future and comes to an inevitable conclusion......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The peasant's story is taken directly from memoirs of a young fourteen year old boy living just outside Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War.
> 
> The bombing of Barcelona, in March 1938, itself is a well documented event. Horrific in every way.  
> Randall (and Lix) were both correspondents there. Lix must have stayed on after Randall left as their daughter Sophia was registered there. 
> 
> The abortion information comes from my mother who was a qualified nurse and midwife in the fifties.

CHAPTER SIX.  
PAST AND PRESENT.

Randall Brown closed the door to his office and turned the key. 

Seating himself on the leather couch he kept there, he ran his hands over his face wearily. 

God! He was tired.

As Head of News he was being leaned on heavily by Angus McCain, the press officer for the PM, to quash the details of the Adams case.  
In fact he was being threatened to present a sanitised narrative to the general public, which rankled with him greatly.

Laying back, with his legs bent slightly at the knees, he folded his hands gently over his middle, and closed his eyes. 

Allowing himself to drift.

To a small village on the outskirts of Barcelona.  
The poverty of the people there astonished and disgusted him. Their rude homes. Tattered clothes, the children practically starving, their eyes wide in their thin, pinched faces.  
A militia of largely unarmed peasantry. Spades and pitchforks. 

Over everything the golden sun poured down, heat haze and dry dust.  
An orange glow.

Their discontent fuelled their hatred of the rules and the bosses, who kept them down, under the yoke of oppression. 

It was his duty to report the facts, his trusty Leica camera hanging from a strap around his neck. 

And he performed that duty to the letter. 

The pictures from those days among the best he'd taken. Filled with light and pathos. Atmospheric.  
Faces, grimy from a days hard toil. Gnarled and calloused hands, with dirty fingernails.  
The landscape. The hills. The beauty. 

He was present when the local Convent was ransacked.  
Saw the nuns, stoutly defending their stock of provisions.  
Members of a merciful church, people of God........who stockpiled food whilst surrounded by famine.  
Took pictures of the crowds of hungry children, as they gorged themselves, tasting chicken for the first time in their lives. 

Barcelona. A small pensionato now, in the city centre. 

Lix was there too.  
Nights were warm and soft. 

He was young, so idealistic, so in love. 

Passion borne of their situation, thrown together in this hell hole, not knowing if tomorrow would even come, and ceasing to care. 

No one heard the bombers approach. Gliding at high altitude. Silent. Only switching on their engines when the bomb bay doors were open. 

German Heinkels, and Italian Savoia-Marchetti, at three hour intervals. 

It was utter chaos. 

The city had little or no anti-aircraft defences. Little defence at all. 

He could hear the sound of those engines now, the thrum, the whine of the bombs as they fell. 

The stench of death, the smell of destruction. 

Screams echoed in his dreams to this day. 

There were no military targets, just raining terror on a demoralised and helpless populace. 

Throughout it all, he executed the job he'd been sent there to do, he filed his report.....

_"Mussolini was very pleased with the bombings. Ciano said that: "He was pleased by the fact that the Italians have managed to provoke horror, by their aggression instead of complacency with their mandolins. This will send up our stock in Germany, where they love total and ruthless war."_

With hindsight he now considered these raids to constitute a deliberate experiment in the use of such tactics against Great Britain once World War II was declared. But at the time all that was in the future, right now he had to get himself out. He'd begged Lix to come with him, she refused. 

He'd been lucky to escape with his own life. 

The photograph he kept in his desk, of his young daughter, haunted him. 

She'd known of course, Lix. 

Known she was with child.  
Hadn't told him, had let him leave, let him walk away. He'd only found out through another friend who was a correspondent like himself. 

The knowledge was first a shock, then a burning desire to know.  
Find her. 

It was why he came to The Hour. A measure of deceit. He knew Lix worked there, naturally. They both worked for the same organisation, how could he not know? 

Too late. 

Far, far too late.  
She was long gone. 

It was the knowledge of this that first made him yearn for something. He wasn't sure what. 

Throughout his conventional and staid marriage, the promised marriage he'd entered into on his return from Spain, only to lose her in an air raid. Virtually unmourned. It wasn't love he felt for her, he felt that for Lix, but for his wife? Affection.  
Fondness. 

Now she was gone too. Long gone. 

A vision of Bel shimmered into his dream. 

Everything about her made him feel alive again. 

Like Lazarus he'd risen from the dead. 

Fallen, from the highest branch. Castigated himself for doing so, yet couldn't help himself. 

A prize idiot. 

He might as well have fallen for Princess Margaret. 

_Yes, Randall.......how to choose the most impossible, the most unlikely, the most ridiculous and unsuitable, the least compatible and the least acceptable. That's the one for you!_

He sighed deeply, and opened his eyes. 

And yet despite all those things, he loved her, each day he saw her, witnessed her struggles, it bought him nothing but exquisite pain. 

oOo

Kneeling on the linoleum on her bathroom floor, Bel raised her head from the toilet pan, sitting back onto her heels.

Sick as a dog. 

So it was real. 

Her thoughts at that moment were such a jumble she could barely make head nor tail of them.  
How had she been so stupid? To allow this to happen, and not even give a thought or care that it might? 

She had a limited amount of time. 

That much she did know. 

She also knew she needed help. 

Her options in that regard were few. To whom could she go? 

Certainly not Randall. Whatever happened he must never know. 

The very thought made her shiver. He had made it quiet clear that their relationship was a non-starter, should never have happened. Was wrong on every level. A mistake. 

Well, this level was most certainly wrong! 

Her parents were dead, and would probably have disowned her out of hand. 

No brothers or sisters. 

Of all the people she would have trusted, would have been sure would give her a fair hearing, Freddie would be the one, he would never judge, but hell, if Freddie were still here she probably wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.  
Although she seriously doubted she would be with him, for all the love she'd felt for him, somehow she'd always known they would never be together. 

At one time she might have confided in Lix. But no more. Having warned Randall off, in no uncertain terms, she had shown the contempt in which she now held Bel on numerous occasions. She wasn't sure exactly what their history was, but she guessed enough to know that there had once been something between them . She was now the very last person Bel would turn to.

Marnie Madden likewise, once close friends, but just the small problem of her finding out that Bel was having an affair with her husband. 

Bel shuddered. She really was a slut. No better than she ought to be. Well, now she would pay the ultimate price. Bring down her own house of cards. 

Hector. He was really the only friend she had now Freddie was gone. Somehow they'd managed to act like adults after their liaison ended.  
Able to be in the same room together, remain civil, interact normally and without bitterness or regret.  
Bel had managed to convey how sorry she'd been and how foolish. She'd met with Marnie and told her that it was she who was at fault, not Hector. He was a womaniser, yes, but it was Bel who had initiated their affair, she had begged Marnie's forgiveness. 

She was genuinely happy that he and his wife patched up their somewhat rocky marriage, and that Hector had cut down on his drinking. They had made a fresh start, and Bel was pleased for both of them. 

He was now the only person she could trust. 

It had to be him.

Secrecy was paramount. No one must know, and she knew Hector could be trusted. 

Otherwise she stood to lose everything. 

Her job. A position she'd worked so hard to achieve. A woman in a man's world. 

Her flat.....her landlady would not hesitate in kicking her out if the news got out. As she constantly reminded Bel, she ran a respectable establishment. 

Her reputation. 

Everything. 

She couldn't possibly go through with it. 

How would she manage? 

Her job was her livelihood. Without it she had no income. 

It was true she had her parents little nestegg, but that was carefully squirrelled away. For such time as she needed it.  
She would struggle to bring up a child alone. Could not hold her head up in any polite society, a single mother, no husband, no ring on her finger. 

Everyone would know her shame. 

No, there would be no going back from this one, her career would be over. Finished. 

The timing couldn't have been worse. It wasn't even as if she were in a proper relationship. It was a one night stand. 

Did she even want a child? Children? At all? Was she the maternal type? 

She doubted it somehow.

And what if she bought the child into the world regardless of opinion?

It would be an outcast just as she would. Tainted by association. A bastard. 

No one would touch her or look at her, at either them, used goods. The whole of the rest of their lives would be one long interminable struggle. 

Bel heaved herself to her feet. Pulled the handle to flush the chain, and rinsed her face and hands at the sink. 

She was trembling. 

Her mind was made up. It was for the best. 

For everyone concerned. 

She would try to speak with Hector as soon as possible. 

Hope he would agree to help her. If not she had few choices. 

She'd heard of gin and scolding hot baths. Of the horror of knitting needles and crotchet hooks, pickle forks, coat hangers and other dubious instruments.  
Concoctions of medicinal herbs such as ginger, tansy and rue.  
And everything from rigorous exercise, to a punch in the stomach. 

There were also many tragic stories she'd heard, of women poisoned by drinking toxic substances, or with terrible infections, or bleeding to death from attempting to self-abort. 

There was a huge risk with these methods, she could actually endanger her life. 

Bel sat down on the edge of her bed and sobbed for hours.


	7. Hector.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel takes her opportunity to speak to Hector, will he help her......?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cabinet reshuffle following Harold Macmillan becoming Leader of the Conservative party and Prime Minister after Eden's resignation were events that actually happened.

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
HECTOR. 

After a largely sleepless night, Bel reached the offices at the BBC early.  
Even the Underground had been quieter, although she still had to stand. Holding tight to one of the rubber knobs which were suspended at intervals from the carriage roof for that purpose.  
The train clattered and swayed, and she with it, surrounded by men in bowler hats, with their black furled umbrellas, heading for the City.  
Reading their copies of The Times.  
Raincoats and trilby's for the office workers. Smartly heeled secretaries with crimson painted lips. 

Bel was relieved to emerge above ground out of the stuffy fetid air of the Tube station. 

She was surprised to find Hector already in, pouring himself coffee in the lunch room. 

"You're early!" He remarked, cheerfully. Then saw her face. 

Pale and drawn, clearly struggling. 

"You alright?" He asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "You look like......well.....like I used to look before I swapped morning Scotch for morning caffeine!" 

He tried to sound jovial, but Bel's expression remained frozen. 

Crossing to her side, he took her arm at the elbow gently. 

"Here......come and sit.....you look all in." He said quietly. 

"Hector, I need to talk to you......." She whispered, her eyes looking up at him as he bent over her. He could see tears beginning to form there, and knew there was something wrong. 

"I'm listening........" He replied kindly. 

"Not here......somewhere private........." 

He could hear a tremor in her voice, and see panic behind her eyes, not only was something wrong, it was something serious. 

He glanced around him. 

"The meeting room is empty, and no one will go in there, anyone arriving will come straight here, so we'll go in there.......come on!" 

Taking her arm more firmly he guided her out through the door and along the corridor, leading her with purpose, his grip solid. 

Once the meeting room door was closed behind them, he turned to her. 

"What the hell's going on? You look as though you're about to........"

Bel's face crumpled on cue. The emotion she'd been desperately holding in seemed to burst forth. 

Big fat tears came down her cheeks, her hand clamped over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sounds. 

Hector drew her in to his chest, holding her very tight, hushing her. 

"Christ Bel......what the heck has happened? Tell me. I'm here okay?.......Whatever it is. Surely it can't be that bad? Is it Randall........?" 

Her sobs hitched, and she fell momentarily silent, held her breath in fear. 

"It is isn't it? I know he's been on your case a bit lately.....Lord knows why......but if it's any consolation, he's been like it with all of us.....I think he's having a bit of a crisis of his own.........apparently he does sometimes........so I'm sure it's nothing personal." 

Bel let out the breath she'd been holding in relief and continued to weep. 

"It's not that, Hector. It isn't. It's far, far worse than that." 

His arms released her slightly, pushing her away from him so that he could look into her face. 

"What is it?" His voice was so gentle that it made it all the harder for her to just say the words. If he'd been short with her, or even angry, somehow it would have been easier. 

"Oh God! Hector......I'm in so much trouble.......and I didn't know who to turn to.......if you won't help I don't know what I'll do......."

Hector's hands were gripping her forearms now, holding her at arms length, bending his head down slightly to her level. 

"Bel! For Christ's sake, have you murdered someone or something.......?" He gave her a little shake to bring her to her senses. 

"I'm expecting a baby, Hector. I'm certain.......oh shit, shit.......it's all such a bloody mess......"

Maddon's eyes grew wide for a moment. He was silent. 

Then he pulled her back into an embrace, and held her there. 

"Does the father know?" His voice was small, as if from a long way away. 

"GOD! NO!" She blurted. "And he mustn't know. No one must. NO ONE!" 

"Am I allowed to know who it is?" Again, that tiny voice......so quiet, almost a whisper, as if his words burnt him to say them. 

"No!" She answered shortly. 

"Christ! Bel!" 

Her head was pressed into his chest, she could smell his aftershave. It was strong. She found herself comparing the almost overpowering scent to the subtle cologne that Randall wore. 

A smell she loved, one that still lingered on the black cocktail dress she'd worn that night, that she caught a draft of every time she opened her wardrobe. 

"What do you want me to do?" He asked finally, clearing his throat and bringing the timbre of his voice to a normal, manly practical tone. 

"I can't go through with it Hector. I need to get rid of it. And no one must know. Do you know of anyone?" 

She felt him sigh against her. But he remained stoic. 

"Alright. Leave it with me......I'll come back to you.......dry your eyes now......go to the cloakroom and wash your face. Tidy your hair. And hold your bloody head up high!  
Whoever this bastard is, he's as much at fault as you could ever be......and irresponsible too. And it's been left to you to mop up the damage. So. Pull yourself together, I'll help you.....okay!" 

Bel sniffed, and stepped back from him. 

"Thank you Hector. I didn't know who else to turn to......there isn't anyone I trust. Not anymore." 

As the two emerged from the meeting room, Bel still dabbing her eyes, Hector was very close, his fingers curled around her other hand to give a little squeeze. 

Bel turned to give him a grateful smile, just as Randall rounded the corner, unbuttoning his raincoat. 

oOo

The Hour were reporting on Harold Macmillan's new reshuffled cabinet. 

Rab Butler, who stood resolutely against Macmillan for the party leadership, was now placated by being made Home Secretary.  
Peter Thorneycroft was the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Selwyn-Lloyd Foreign Secretary. 

It was the big news of the day. 

Hector was in the studio, rehearsing his introductory segment before the programme aired. 

Randall was standing in the booth, almost shoulder to shoulder with Bel, who was giving Hector his camera directions and cues. 

"Camera two will cut to you in close up when you reach the end of the first sentence, then we have film footage of Butler and Lloyd arriving at Number Ten." 

She spoke into the desk microphone. Hector gave the thumbs up. 

"Bel. Do you have a moment?" Randall said softly, only inches from her side. 

"Not really. I'm busy," She responded, curtly. 

"I'll be brief. It won't take a moment of your time." He replied, then stared at her pointedly, through his spectacles, as if to indicate she really had no choice. 

"Well, make it quick then." She huffed. 

Into Randall's office the door closed silently behind them. 

Crossing the room, he stood close to her. 

"Bel......."

"What is it Randall? What do you want?" She asked, her tone one of defiance. Her gaze challenging. Arms folded across her chest. 

"I just want to counsel you Bel. As a friend........"

"Friend? What? Counsel me about what?" 

"I saw you." He stated simply. "And I just wanted to tell you, that Marnie has just discovered she is with child. Hector told me in confidence, last week. But I thought, under the circumstances, you ought to know." 

Bel's eyes widened very slightly, but she rallied and retained her dignity. 

"Circumstances? What circumstances? Why are you telling me this?" She snapped. 

"I have eyes Bel." His voice was soft, irrepressibly sad, a quaver of emotion hanging there.

Bel seethed. How dare he judge her thus? 

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" She hissed through gritted teeth, and made to push passed him. 

His hand came out and clutched her arm, gently but firmly. 

"Bel......please........don't do this........for Marnie's sake if not for your own......." He began miserably.

Bel's eyes were aflame as she turned on him. 

Tight lipped, she almost spat the words out.

"I don't know what you thought you saw......but whatever it was......you are wrong. As usual! Now keep your nose out of my bloody business!" 

Snatching her arm from his grip, she left the office and slammed the door resoundingly behind her. 

Sweeping down the corridor, she made it as far as the meeting room before collapsing down onto a chair.  
Her head in her hands. 

It was no use, she'd have to deal with this predicament on her own somehow. How could she expect Hector to help her, when his own wife was expecting a child? 

It was unthinkable. 

Why hadn't he said something to her? 

And how in God's name was she going to make it through the rest of the day? 

oOo

At lunchtime Bel managed to escape the building and headed down towards the park. 

She needed air, and freedom from the cloying atmosphere that seemed to surround her. 

Seated on a bench.  
Gazing, unseeing across the greensward, where flowerbeds were planted up with scarlet geraniums, alyssum and lobelia, giving a jaunty and patriotic red, white and blue.  
Her focus fastened on a mother, pushing a small child in a pram with fringed sun canopy. 

She watched as the young woman spread out a tartan rug on the grass, lifting the infant out, cooing and laughing to it, before sitting it down and placing a toy elephant into its eager chubby hands, before seating herself beside it. 

Bel found herself mesmerised by the sight. 

Suddenly a hand was placed on her own. 

It was Hector. 

He sat down beside her, their shoulders touching. 

"Here!" He said, and pushed a slip of paper into her hand. "Do you need money?" 

Bel shook her head to the negative, clutching the paper but not looking at it.

"Friday. At six." He continued, distractedly, his own eyes now watching the mother and baby. "You'll need the weekend to recover. Hopefully back to work by Monday. No one will be any the wiser." 

"Thank you Hector. Thank you.......thank you for being my friend. And I'm sorry." 

"Sorry?" He turned to look at her, sorrowfully. 

"Sorry to lay it at your door." 

"Don't be. It could just have easily been mine. And if I thought for one moment that you wouldn't feel able to come to me for help, as you clearly can't with the baby's real father, that you'd have to face what I was responsible for, alone.......I'd have been devastated." 

"It's not like that......it's just circumstances......" She began. 

"Do you love him?" He asked gently. 

Bel bit her lip and nodded. 

"Then oughtn't he to know? Does he love you?" He continued kindly.

"I thought so.......I was sure, but then he seemed to back away........shut me out.......said it was a mistake......then, this!" She replied quietly. 

"Bastard! So he got what he wanted and then ran a mile!" Hector fumed.

"It wasn't........it wasn't like that......it was........it was.......oh God!" Bel placed a hand across her eyes, as if to blot out the view as much as to quell her tears. 

"Listen.....Bel......I'm sorry, but I have to get back. I promised to leave on time today, to get home to Marnie, and I still have work to do......but I'm here if you need anything.....you know where I am....."

"Thank you Hector. But I don't need anything more. You've done more than enough. I'll not trouble you again. I know it's awkward. I'll be fine now." 

She turned and gave him a little reassuring smile, and he rose and left her. 

"Take care Bel." 

Bel watched him walk briskly and confidently away. Until his silhouette was blurred by her tears. 

Only then did she glance down at the paper he'd given her. 

An address in Bethnal Green.

She folded the note and secreted it inside her handbag.


	8. Bethnal Green.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come. 
> 
> Bel is on her way to her appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the geographical stuff in this chapter is accurate.  
> As is the Milk Bar. (It is still there, one of the few surviving) 
> 
> Almost everything else is from my mother's memories as a midwife in East London in the fifties.

CHAPTER EIGHT.  
BETHNAL GREEN.

As if to mock her, the day was bright and warm and sunny. 

Whilst her mood was black as pitch. 

After so little sleep for days, Bel was exhausted. 

Frightened and alone. 

A sort of numbness settled upon her as she tried her best to focus through the working week and get through each day. She became convinced that people were watching her, their eyes on her, nudges and whispers.  
It wasn't true of course, but she was sure they'd found her out, knew her for what she was and were silently disgusted. 

By the time Friday arrived she was barely functioning. Colleagues spoke to her as if through a wall of fuzz. Just audible.  
Only Hector was particularly gentle with her, taking her arm at one point to help her retain her balance, when the floor seemed to fall away from beneath her feet.  
Thanking him briskly she remarked that she was wearing new shoes, and shrugged him off. 

She could keep nothing down, and so hadn't eaten. 

At five on the dot she left. Unusually, but she had to keep her appointment. 

Inside her mind, her thoughts were so jumbled and unclear that she moved on autopilot. 

Taking the tube to Liverpool Street, she emerged onto Bishopsgate walking against the tide of people leaving work. 

They were like lemmings. Bent on their course. A seething mass of humanity, with just one aim, to get home. Heads down, blinkers on. 

She was jostled and bumped on the stairs, ignored and unnoticed by everyone.

Relieved to be out in the open, she looked up, the sky was so blue. Little fluffy clouds drifted overhead. The evening sun warm. 

The last day she would be as she was now. Etched on her memory forever. 

She waited for the bus opposite Dirty Dick's pub and hopped on, taking a seat near the front where she could see where she was going. 

"Anymore fares please! Anymore fares!" The bus conductor smiled warmly at her as she handed over her tuppence.  
Turning the handle on the clippy machine harnessed to his front, he handed over her brown paper ticket. 

"I don't know the area, can you tell me when we get near St Matthew's Row?" She asked, looking up at him. 

"'Course dearie! I'll ding on the bell!" He replied jovially and moved on down the aisle. 

"Anyyymoree fares please!" 

Bel stared out of the window. Almost twelve years since the end of the war, but still great gaps in the buildings along the side of the road. There would be a street, a row of houses, then an empty space. Where a bomb had hit, or a doodlebug. 

Children played there now. Dens built of old corrugated iron that was once an Anderson shelter, or a rusty old Austin which was their transport to a life inside their dreams. Cowboys and Indians amongst the rubble, in Stetsons and feathered headdress, a tomahawk or a cap gun in a holster on one hip. In short trousers with dirty knees.  
A little girl with a rope tied around the handholds at the top of a lamp post, swinging round and round, holding tight, squealing with delight, her skirt blown up, showing her knickers.  
Two more with a long skipping rope between them, a long line of girls and boys running in, under the turn of the rope, skipping and then running out again. 

_"Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around_  
_Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground"_

_"I like coffee, I like tea...._  
_"I like Joan to jump with me"_

Bel found tears on her face that she'd been unaware were falling, and wiped them angrily away. 

_Ding, ding._

"St Matthew's! All git out, for St Matt's Row!" The bell chord on the bus was pulled. 

Pushing herself out of the seat and walking unsteadily against the movement of the vehicle, Bel held onto the pole on the running board and jumped down as the bus pulled into the stop. 

The conductor waved as the bus pulled away, but she didn't acknowledge him. 

On the other side of the street was Pellicci's milk bar and 'caff.'

The yellow and chrome Vitrolite exterior caught the sunlight, people were coming and going, and as the door opened she glimpsed the warm wooden deco interior and heard the sound of Bill Haley and the Comets from the juke box inside......

 

 _Well, I saw my baby walkin'_  
_With another man today_  
_Well, I saw my baby walkin'_  
_With another man today_  
_When I asked her what's the matter_  
  _This is what I heard her say_  
_See you later alligator_  
_After 'while crocodile_  
_See you later alligator_  
_After 'while crocodile_

Two girls were standing outside, young, pretty, probably no more than sixteen.  
Stiffened petticoats under their skirts, neat, white ankle socks, hair glossed back perfectly into ponytails.  
They were giggling, chatting happily, looking at a Picture Post magazine with a pin up of Elvis Presley. 

Bel suddenly felt very old. 

There was no time to linger. Her step brisk, as she referred to the paper Hector had given her, turning down St Matthew's Row and heading away from the Bethnal Green Road. 

The area became more run down and dilapidated as she hurried along. She kept her head down and her bag clutched to her side, her pace quick and purposeful. 

Reaching the street she'd been directed to, she turned the corner. The houses here were old.  
Pre-Victorian. Past their sell by date. 

Squashed together.  
Three storeys, with a basement beneath pavement level. It was down one of these that she directed her feet. 

Steps green with a slippery algae-like substance, iron railings. A thick panelled door. 

She knocked, and waited. 

The door was opened unexpectedly by a young child. Grubby, but bright enough. 

"Ma! A lady has come!" She called over her shoulder. 

A woman came into view. Her hair tied into a floral scarf, curlers underneath. Wrapped in a side tying housecoat cum pinafore. 

"Come straight frew, Duckie!" She gestured, with a wave of one hand. 

The house was clean enough, but impossibly drab and dingy. 

The walls had a brownness about them and a strong smell of tobacco and bleach. 

Bel thought she might gag. 

She was shown through to a back room. Stained linoleum on the floor. Fusty maroon curtains, drawn across to shut out the sunlight.  
A small stove, on which a large blackened pot was boiling furiously, filling the room with steam and condensation, which ran down the darkened wallpaper. 

There was a trestle table, covered with a sheet. A pillow at one end. Several rather grey looking towels and sheets of newspaper. On the table a pad of leather for her to bite down on, if the pain became too much, and a bottle of smelling salts. 

"Got the money?" The woman asked, holding out a calloused hand. 

Bel placed two guineas into her palm, in the form of two pound notes and a florin, her fingers snapped quickly around the cash, pocketing it underneath her pinny. 

"Take your drawers off and lay on the bed, Lovie, feet together, knees apart. I'll be back in a mo. All over in no time!" She said, not unkindly, and left the room. 

Bel stared around her in horror. There was an evil looking catheter with a metal insert bubbling in the saucepan, swabs of cotton wool, and a Dr White's looped sanitary towel and belt on the draining board. 

So sordid. 

Panic, fear, and nausea welled up inside her. 

Visions swept across her mind in a series of snapshots, like a Pathé newsreel playing. 

The mother and baby in the park. The children skipping. The young teens outside the milk bar. 

Bel began to shake and weep. Clutching her stomach. 

How could she do this? How could she even think of it? 

A life. 

Ending a life. Possibly even ending her own. 

The enormity of what she was about to do hit her like a freight train. 

In moments she was down the gruesome hallway, out of the door, stumbling up the greasy steps and back to the street. 

Once there she broke into a run. 

She ran and ran. 

No thought of direction, no care that she was weeping uncontrollably and people were staring at her as if she were mad. 

She felt sick and weak and faint. Light headed, as she hadn't eaten all day. 

When her new shoes rubbed a blister on the back of her heel which was bleeding, she pulled them off and ran in her stockinged feet. 

A trolleybus passed her, and she sprinted alongside it, hopping on when it reached its stop. 

Thrusting a couple of coppers into the hand of the astonished conductor, she sat, gasping for breath, sobbing, gasping and sobbing again as the vehicle set off. 

"You alright Miss?" A man opposite looked at her kindly. 

"Where does this go?" She choked. 

"Up West, love. Can I do anything?" Bel, wiped her face on her sleeve, leaving a mark there. 

"Yes. You can leave me alone!" She whispered. 

The man huffed, and opened his newspaper with a flourish, a mutter of "daft cow!" Under his breath. 

Reaching Grey's Inn Road, and somewhere she recognised, Bel got down and continued to run. 

Not stopping until she found herself at a street she knew well. 

Her legs were failing her now, the adrenaline that had carried her this far, waning, the nausea she'd felt was now a fist in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. 

Banging on the familiar blue door with her fists. Hammering with her last ounce of strength. 

Clutching the frame tightly as she waited. 

"Please be there! Please answer the door. Dear God in Heaven, please be at home!" 

The portal opened a tiny crack, just an eye visible, on a security chain. 

A shocked little cry of recognition. 

Closed to again, the chain hurriedly removed. Thrown open wide, as Bel collapsed down on the step. 

Into the arms of an astonished Marnie Madden.


	9. Marnie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel has no where to go, and no one to help her. 
> 
> She throws herself onto the mercy of Marnie Madden.

CHAPTER NINE.  
MARNIE. 

Hector's wife met her husband in the hallway on hearing his key in the lock, as he arrived home from work.  
Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he looked at her questioningly. 

"We have a visitor." She said quietly. 

Maddon gave an exasperated sigh, he was looking forward to a quiet evening. 

"Who the heck is it?" He groaned. 

"Come and see." Taking his hand she led him into their comfortable living room. 

There, on the sofa, covered by a blanket, lay Bel. 

Her face pale and drawn, she was deeply asleep. Completely wrung out. 

"Christ!" Hector breathed. "Is she alright?" 

"As far as I can tell. She arrived about an hour ago. Banging on the door fit to bust.  
When I opened it she collapsed on the mat. I helped her as far as I could. She's been there ever since. God knows what's happened, but whatever it is, she was distraught, rambling about 'not going through with it' or something, I couldn't make head nor tail of it." 

Hector took his wife by the hand. 

"Let her rest. Come into the kitchen, darling." 

Seated either side of the table, each with a cup of tea, Marnie regarded her husband with a worried expression. 

"She came to me, last week. Asked for my help." He began. 

"Why you? Why couldn't she go to someone else." Her voice was slightly shrill. 

"Darling. Don't. Please. She had no one else to go to. Not with what she required help for. She was desperate. How could I say no?" Hector held his wife's hands across the table top. 

"Oh God.....don't tell me! She's in the family way? Hector, I swear, if it's yours I'll ......." Her face changed and she looked as if she were about to cry. 

"Jesus! Marnie! Have a little faith. It's long over between us, it never really bloody started. I was only with her when you and I were......well, I thought we were finished." He saw his wife visibly relax. 

"Who's is it then?" She asked. 

"She wouldn't say. She said it was a one off.....but that she loved him......." 

Marnie scoffed.

"That woman doesn't know the meaning of the word! She just wants male attention. And other people's husbands! Well, now she's got her come uppance!" 

"Oh, Marn. Have a heart! That's not you speaking.....and that's not true at all. She told you it was her fault that we began an affair. But it wasn't entirely true. I was flattered, and monumentally stupid. But I was as much to blame as she was.  
Bel is a good girl. She is! There's not a bad bone in her body. Freddie was the one she loved, and his loss must have hit her awfully hard. I've no idea who this new man is, but whoever it is, I believe her, she loves him, and she's a bloody mess right now." 

Hector stood, and began to pace. 

"I love you Marnie. More than I've ever loved you. You're carrying our child, for crying out loud, against all the odds. There is nothing I would do to jeopardise that......nothing. When she came to me, she was broken Marnie.......utterly broken, put yourself in her position, look what she stands to lose. Frightened and alone. She has no family......no one at all."

"What about the bloody father? Why couldn't she go to him?" Marnie's look was now one more of sympathy, and sorrow.

"God knows. I've no idea who he is, I haven't seen her with anyone. She wanted my help. I gave her the address of someone I know." He held a hand up, before she could speak. 

"And before you jump down my throat, I don't know of her for myself, one of the women at El Paradis used to rent a room from her." 

"Don't you think we should call a doctor, supposing there's something gone wrong?" Marnie was suddenly concerned, and made for the living room. 

"Let's go see if she's awake." 

oOo

Bel was stirring slightly as they entered. 

Marnie Madden knelt down beside the settee. 

"Bel? Wake up dear. Bel?" Gently she laid a hand on her friend's arm, as slowly her eyes opened. 

Seeing Marnie's kindly expression, and Hector standing behind her, Bel tried to sit up, but her head swam and she was forced to rest back down. 

Hector moved forwards. 

"Is it done Bel? Are you ill?" He asked softly. 

Bel bit her lip and shook her head, tears began to come. 

"Oh Hector! I couldn't do it. Just couldn't go through with it." She grabbed Marnie's hand. " Please Marnie, please don't be angry with me. I didn't know where else I could go. I know you think I'm a tramp, and you're probably right. I can't forgive myself for what I did......to you or you Hector....." She glanced at him as she spoke.  
"But I honestly thought your marriage was over, we both did, I would never have gone near him if I'd known, I swear.......you have to believe me........" 

"So you haven't had the.......the.....termination.....?" Marnie whispered. 

Bel shook her head again. 

"God help me! I want it......." She looked pleadingly from one to the other of the couple. " I want to keep it........what the hell am I going to do?" She turned her head away from them and sobbed. 

"Help me sit her up Hector!" Marnie directed. " And then put some milk in a saucepan on the stove to warm, she needs something inside her stomach and a warm bed. Then we'll decide what's to be done to help her!" 

Bel fell silent, looking intently at Marnie. 

"You'll help me? But why? Why would you even do that? You must hate me......I don't deserve anything."

"Because!" She replied earnestly. "Because I'm expecting too......something that I hoped and prayed desperately for, and it's a miracle. Nothing on God's Earth would allow me to harm that unborn child. Your baby is a miracle too......and I understand why you couldn't get rid of it. It was conceived in love. And there's an end to it." 

Wiping her face, Bel accepted the cup of warm milk from Hector's hand. 

"You can't possibly do this alone my dear, you'll need help, and money, you'll need a place to go and a plausible story, Hector and I will help you, won't we Hector?" She turned to her husband and reached for his hand. 

"She'll come up with a plan. My wife is the most clever and resourceful person I know. She'll think of something. Never fear. Somehow we'll work something out." 

Bel looked from one to the other miserably. 

"What a bloody mess!" She whispered hoarsely. 

oOo

Bel was ensconced in the spare bedroom, a mound under the eider down, only her blonde head visible. 

Marnie switched out the landing light and returned to her husband's side.

"How is she?" He asked as she snuggled under the bedspread beside him. 

"Sleeping. She's tired out. Weak too, I don't think she's been eating properly." 

"She's lost and alone Marnie. She pretends to be this powerful career woman, all buttoned up and in control. When really she just wants what most people want, if they're honest......someone to love them." He drew his wife closer. 

"You're so old fashioned Hector. Things are changing. A home, a housewife and mother might have been enough once, but not anymore.....women worked throughout the War. They don't want to return to being 'the little woman'. Bel is ambitious, maybe, but why should she not combine a career and motherhood?" 

Hector laughed. 

"And you think that once it gets out she's got an illegitimate child, she'll be welcomed with open arms, do you? No one'll touch her with a barge pole.....particularly not the BBC......they've got a reputation to uphold. Can't have 'fallen women' working for them......large as life. Depravity infiltrating the ranks! Hiding a whole aspect of her life will be nigh on impossible.  
No, Bel will have to face it, if she has the kid, she's finished as far as television is concerned."

Marnie pulled away from him angrily. 

"Well I'm going back to work after our baby comes. The cookery programme will go from strength to strength."

"It's different for you though, you're deemed 'respectable'. They won't have you back on air until after the baby is born. Once you start to show, they'll take you off. They won't have a 'pregnant woman' on display......viewers won't like it!" 

"They are a lot of bloody old fossils. How do they think life continues, if women don't have babies?  
It's ridiculous." She huffed. 

"Yes, well, I know that and you know that......but the BBC don't like to offend anyone! And some viewers would find that offensive!" 

He stopped speaking then, and cocked his head to one side. 

"Listen!" He whispered urgently. 

Marnie did the same. 

From the room next door came the sound of quiet and stifled sobbing. 

"Poor lamb!" Marnie whispered. "We have to get her through this." 

"You're wonderful, you know that?" Hector responded warmly. "Not many people would help her, least of all someone in your position. You have every right to despise her." 

"And what would that achieve? She made a mistake. YOU made a mistake. But it's in the past.  
I'm the winner here......I'm the lucky one. I have my husband back, I love him, I am carrying his child in spite of it all, I have a lovely home, and a future. What does Bel have? And you're right, she's a lovely girl, and I like her. That hasn't changed, despite everything that's happened." 

"You have a great capacity for forgiveness......and I love you for it. Thank you." 

Hector kissed his wife tenderly, stroking a hand across her belly, still flat but the promise of swelling to come. 

"I have an idea of how we can help her......it'll be a bit difficult, but it can be done. Unfortunately secrecy is paramount, and I hate that, deceit and lies.....but it's how it'll have to be, for the time being anyway. The most important thing to my mind is that her reputation remains unsullied, that she's accepted and taken in, is seen as respectable and trustworthy, and for that, I'm afraid there will have to be a bit of pretend."

"She won't like it. I know her!" Hector laid on his back, Marnie leaning against him. 

"No." His wife replied sadly. "And neither do I but I'm very much afraid it's how things will have to be, at least for a while. I wish we knew who the father was......my gut instinct is that he should know." 

"But we can't interfere in that." She continued. " It's her decision, but we can help her to build a life, and a future for the little one." 

"I love you Mrs Madden!" Hector said, sleepily. As she laid her head on his shoulder.


	10. Sailing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall has woken early on Saturday morning. 
> 
> He has a pleasant day planned, and the weather is fine.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At one point in the show, Randall says  
> "When my father died, I bought a boat......one of many rash decisions....."
> 
> Well. Randall seems to have made quite a few rash decisions in his life, but this one has bought him comfort. 
> 
>  
> 
> Everything mentioned in this chapter is pure fifties, and is mainly from my own memories of childhood in the sixties when Leigh hadn't changed much, to the things we had in our house from that time which were still around and well used. 
> 
> It was a different world.
> 
> (The Daily Express was a broadsheet at the time. It didn't go tabloid until the seventies)

CHAPTER TEN.  
SAILING. 

As it was the weekend, Randall's small travel clock beside his bed didn't wake him. 

No alarm.  
He woke at the same time anyway. 

Early start. 

Pyjamas off. Folded neatly. Bare feet on cold lino.

Padding into the bathroom he ran some water into the sink and lathered up his face with his shaving brush.  
Selecting a new blade he shaved himself carefully, stretching the skin with the fingers of one hand, ploughing a neat line through the white foam, swishing the razor into the water, then repeating, until his face was smooth, before rinsing off, and drying his cheeks with a towel.

 

Plug in, taps on.  
Lowering himself into the bath water he lay back for a few moments and closed his eyes. Allowing the warmth to penetrate and soothe, before sliding down and submerging his head, then soaping his hair vigorously, dipping under again to rid himself of the soap suds. 

Out, dry, and wet combed, he slapped on a little after shave, wincing slightly at the sting.  
Dressing in a pair of old flannels, canvas shoes and a speckle knit polo neck fisherman's pullover. No Brylcreem today, it was the weekend, he would go au naturel, his hair not requiring the rigorous taming it underwent during the working week.  
Later he would don a cotton topped sailors cap with a peak. 

He stripped the sheets and pillowcases from the bed and bundled them, along with the towels ready for the laundry van to call.  
It was in doing this that he heard a tiny clatter. Something caught under the mattress cover which drew his attention. He bent to retrieve it. 

A pearl earring. 

Bel's. 

Randall rolled the small precious object between his fingers, gazing at it. 

Just when he'd settled in his own mind that she was out of the equation, that he'd done the right thing. 

"Damn, damn, damn!" He cursed under his breath. 

Placing it in his cuff link box, with a deep sigh, he headed downstairs to make breakfast. 

First fetching the milk bottles from the doorstep.

His old bakelite Bush radio made a satisfying 'whumph' as he switched it on. Allowing it to warm up before selecting longwave, he twiddled the knob until he found the Light Programme.  
'Family Favourites', music to soothe him, take his mind off finding the earring, which had unsettled his carefully balanced equilibrium. 

Making coffee, then bacon, eggs and toast, he ate in silence, glancing at The Times and The Daily Express which had just been delivered by the paperboy. Opening them out and spreading both broadsheets across his kitchen table to peruse for any interesting stories. 

After breakfast he threw a few things into a canvas bag and headed for the Southend road in his little Morris traveller.  
He pootled down to Leigh-on-Sea, trying his best to forget about the earring, about Bel, about the night they'd spent together, her hair, her beautiful skin, the way she'd felt when he touched her. 

Yes, he was completely over it. She didn't trouble his thoughts at all. 

He parked in the Old Town and made his way down to the Creek. 

It was there he kept his pride and joy. 

A twenty-five foot 1930's clinker built teak wood ketch. 

It had a deck top cabin with steps down into the keel and fore and aft traditional terracotta canvas sails. 

Taking his dingy he skulled expertly out to his mooring. Tying it up alongside her to a mooring buoy and climbing aboard. 

_"Eurybia"_

Named for the Greek goddess of the mastery of the seas. 

Randall opened up the cabin hatch, sliding it aside, and went down inside. Lighting his little Primus stove he boiled water in a pan and made coffee in a tin mug.  
'Camp' chicory coffee with condensed milk. Sweet and hot. He sat on the cabin roof in the sunshine to drink it, waiting for the tide. 

In the Thames estuary the tide came in quickly, seeping and lapping around his little vessel, until it was fully afloat. 

Starting up the little Lister engine he put-putted out, following the creek line where the water was at its deepest.  
Once free of its confines, he cut the engine and went atop to unfurl the sails. 

Tacking into the wind, and seating himself aft, tiller in hand, the boom lanyard wrapped around his other arm and hand, he sailed out into the Ray, then into the Estuary proper. 

What a glorious day. 

Swapping his spectacles for a pair of rather smart browline sunglasses to shield his eyes from the sun, he turned his face into the breeze and took a few long deep breaths. 

Fresh salty air, the lap of the sea, bright warm light........freedom. 

Bliss.

At no time was he happier than when out on the water.

When the tide eventually began to turn, he headed back, then sat on the mooring for an hour or so, tinkering with the engine.  
Oily rag, greasy fingers. He dipped them into a tin of Swarfega he kept on board. Scooping out some of the green gloop, he rubbed it thoroughly all over his hands, then rinsed them off in the sea. 

Coming ashore with some regret, he walked to The Crooked Billet inn, where he ordered a pot of tea and a very late lunch. Cockles and brown shrimps with slices of brown bread and butter, (each cut into identical triangles) vinegar and pepper. Followed by a slab of landlord's wife's home made fruit cake. 

Randall sat back, sated. Content. He had caught the sun on his face, his nose pink, even though he'd applied some Cool Tan cream to it. His arms and hands too.  
The curse of Scottish pale skin he reasoned. 

Throughout the day he'd thought of Bel off and on. She haunted him.  
In his mind he decided that he would talk to her. 

Monday morning, first thing. 

He would get her in his office, and he would talk to her. 

Wasn't sure what he was going to say. 

Randall was going to throw caution to the wind. Wing it. 

Whatever happened he must.....just.....talk to her. 

He could no longer bear this skirting around each other. The curt and short exchanges. The fierce looks.  
It was killing him. 

 

He had to do something about it. Hope to God she'd consent to speak to him, perhaps start again. 

Yes! That was what he wanted. To start again. 

Courting. 

Properly. 

Get to know each other. Take it slow. Do it in the right order. Do it right. 

As he headed home at sunset, he felt easier in his heart. 

Today had been a good day.


	11. Plans.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same Saturday morning. 
> 
> But for Bel it's not the glorious idyll it is for Randall. 
> 
> There is much to be discussed and decided. Thank goodness she has Hector and Marnie as friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to show, in this chapter the stark difference between Randall's Saturday and Bel's. 
> 
> Whilst he is out on the water, relatively at peace, her life is a complete turmoil.
> 
> Great changes are going to take place, sacrifices made and her career abandoned.
> 
>  
> 
> The village of Lower Slaughter in the Cotswolds is a place I've visited many times. It is picturesque and sleepy to this day, and was even more so in the fifties and sixties.  
> The village never actually had a pub, although it has one now, but for the purposes of this narrative I've invented one! (See picture at base of page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN.  
PLANS. 

 

Saturday morning for Bel was starkly different than for Randall. 

The bright sunshine went largely unnoticed.  
Her whole life about to be turned upside down. 

Around the kitchen table at the Madden house, there was much to be discussed and decided. 

Bel an almost silent participant.

She had still managed to eat very little. Her stomach just didn't seem to want to accept it. So Marnie had made her good old fashioned bread and milk with a little sugar and grated nutmeg, which she found she could keep down. 

"It's so wonderful we can get nutmeg again." She remarked, trying to be cheerful. "And that sugar isn't rationed anymore. I don't miss ration books one bit! Seems like an age ago now! But only three years for meat and bacon.....how I longed for the smell of bacon in the mornings!" 

Bel didn't answer but seemed deep in thought. 

Hector and Marnie had a rather lovely holiday cottage in a picturesque village just outside Stow-on-the-Wold in Gloucestershire.  
It was decided that Bel should go there, for the duration of her confinement at least. No one knew her there or knew of her.  
If the Madden's introduced her to villagers as their friend, hopefully not too many questions would be asked. 

"Perhaps she could be newly arrived from abroad, a husband still overseas. Come home so her baby can be born here." Marnie suggested. 

"The fewer fibs we have to tell the better. But if they get wind that you're unmarried, you'll be shut out, especially in such a small community. You'll just have to do everything you can to fit in, and not give too much away."

Hector interjected.

"That'll work, but what about the BBC? She'll need to put her resignation in straight away, so that she works a months notice......won't she? Otherwise her stomach will begin to show.....she'll need to leave before that happens." 

"No." Bel interrupted quietly. "My contract is up for renewal at the end of this month. They've given me a new one, but I haven't signed it yet." 

"But that's only a fortnight away. How come you didn't sign?" Hector looked puzzled. 

"Because after the news of Freddie's death I didn't know if I wanted to stay. I told them I'd need time to think about it. I needed a few weeks to decide. See how things panned out without him.  
A couple of months ago Mr Brown asked if I thought I'd stay on, and I told him it depended........so, I can just tell them I've made my decision." 

"Depended on what?" Hector asked. 

"It's not important now.......I just thought maybe things would work out, with........with......it doesn't matter." Bel seemed unwilling to finish her sentence. 

"Well, that will certainly sound alright, and it would seem eminently plausible, it'll also give you a little more time to sort out your flat and the move."  
Said Marnie thoughtfully. 

"I'll give notice on my flat straight away. No one must know where I'm going. I'll just disappear." 

The solemnity in Bel's voice was heavy. 

"I'll miss you all, and I'll miss London." She said sadly. 

"The Hour will miss you too. But who knows what will happen in the future? No one. And after the baby comes, you could move back to London." Hector replied more in hope than conviction. 

"I won't be able to return here. Not with a child. People will find out, people know me here......"

"London is a big place Bel, you might not be able to return to where you lived before, but there are plenty of other places." He tried to sound positive. 

"I don't think we should look too far ahead." Marnie commented wisely. "let's just concentrate on the baby coming, get passed that hurdle first.....then......well, then we'll see.......you're making an awful lot of sacrifices Bel. Your whole life will change.......I just hope you feel it's worth it."

Bel looked up at the pair of them and gave a little smile. 

"Perhaps it's for the best. I was a very stupid and selfish woman, and now I'm going to have someone else to think about other than myself. I'll just have to make my life all about that little person, he or she."

She passed a hand over her stomach wistfully. 

"I can't really believe this has happened. And that it didn't even occur to me that it would! I'm such a fool! That night! It's like a dream that didn't really happen now, I said that I needed to feel something, anything......" Tears began to come. "......and I did......God help me.......so much love, that I thought I'd burst with it.......oh Marnie! I wish I was with him now......that he would hold me tight and tell me it's going to be alright!" 

She broke into a flurry of weeping, which Marnie, hugging her close, did her best to quell. 

"My darling! Do you not think you should tell this man? He might stand by you.....things would be so different then........" 

"NO! NO!" She cried instantly. "He mustn't know. He made it quite clear.......this wasn't the relationship he wanted, it was a mistake.......he immediately regretted it, and backed away.......no.....whatever happens, he mustn't find out. He'd think I was trying to trap him, or worse......."

oOo

Together, mid morning, the three motored down to the Cotswolds. 

Such a beautiful day for a jaunt!

Marnie telephoned ahead to the woman who kept the cottage in readiness for them, to warn of their imminent arrival. Apologising most profusely for the lack of notice.  
They planned to stay overnight, show Bel the village and the surrounding area, and plant the seeds for her tenancy.

Lower Slaughter was a typical village of the area. Situated on the Ey Brook, which joined the River Windrush, two and a half miles from Stow.  
The houses were largely built in the local butter coloured stone, some were thatched, some peg tiled.  
Small stone bridges spanned the river at intervals, a beautiful old water mill with a working wheel sat at one end of the village, which served as bakery and malt house.  
The pretty stone church of St Mary's had a spire, and a lych gate. The vicarage situated next to the church wall, overlooking the graveyard, roses around the porch. 

It was like a chocolate box, or a biscuit tin lid. 

So pretty, almost twee. 

As they drove through, Bel remarked.....

"Good lord Marnie, it's St Mary Mead! I swear that cottage over there belongs to Miss Marple!" 

Hector smiled.

"We love the area, it's so nice to come down here for a break. Get away from The Smoke. Just enjoy the peace and quiet. I just hope it isn't TOO peaceful and TOO quiet, and you'll be bored out of your skull." 

Bel laid a comforting hand over his. 

"It doesn't matter what it is Hector. I'll make myself happy. I'll make the best of it whatever happens. Who am I to complain? I'm so lucky that you and Marnie are even doing this for me. It'll do me good, to be right out of the way, to be forgotten......that, after all, is the idea!" 

"My dear! You won't be forgotten! Hector and I will travel down whenever we can get away. You can't spend your time here punishing yourself." 

"Why not? Marnie, you have your own life......your own baby to think about. You mustn't trouble yourself too much with me." She replied earnestly. 

"Bel, there are months yet......we'll visit you often. And I think you'll find the villagers, although provincial, are kind and welcoming." 

They entered the cottage, which had been made ready for them by the stalwart Mrs. Young, who lived a few doors away. 

It was a lovely place. The decor all chintz and rush matting. Mullioned windows, in a criss cross of diamond shapes, a gable end in the roof, and moulded capitals on the chimney.  
There were beams in the ceiling, with horse brasses. The living room boasted a huge inglenook fireplace.  
A veritable treasure in stone. 

The War had largely passed this village by. Miles from the horror of bombing and air raids. Almost a time warp. Harking back to golden days long past.  
Days of horses and carts, of threshing machines, old men in gaiters and smocks, smoking clay pipes. 

Halcyon days. 

Later they wandered the village. 

There was a small shop and post office, with a red letter box and telephone box outside. Outside hung a sign, _"You can telegraph from here."_  
A smart Village Hall for functions, WI meetings, talks and bazaars, and where Sunday School and Girl Guides were held.  
Reading rooms and a small library. 

A quaint little tea shop. Sporting gingham tablecloths and pretty china.

The 'big house' was Washbourne Place. Owned by the Whitmore family, the local squire for generations. Part of which was once a grammar school affiliated to Eton, now a private residence.

There was a cosy inn called the Whitmore Arms, where they all went for lunch.  
Low ceilings and wooden settles with an old labrador asleep on the floor by the bar, who barely raised his head as they entered. 

Hector was greeted cordially by the landlord, and introduced Bel as a friend from London, who would shortly be coming to stay in the village.  
Smiles and introductions all round. Hand shakes, and pleasantries. 

Bel was beginning to feel a little better about coming here. 

Somehow it would work, it had to. She would make it work. 

"We must register you with the local doctor." Marnie remarked, as they left. "The Glebe House is the surgery, and I expect there's a midwife, you'll certainly be needing her services!" 

The reality was beginning to kick in. Although Bel hadn't envisaged giving birth under a bush unaided, her practical thought processes seemed to have entirely deserted her.  
Thank God Marnie Madden was so on the ball! 

"Well......?" She said, taking Bel, by the arm, as they strolled back to the cottage. "What do you think? Do you think you'll be alright here? You'll be relatively safe from detection at least." 

Bel turned to her friend with such a look of gratitude that she was stung into silence. 

"I'll never, ever be able to thank you adequately......either of you.......never!" She whispered. "I'll be fine here. We both will." She patted her stomach. 

Hector was thinking out loud. 

"We must arrange a PO box for your mail to be sent to, you can't have it forwarded directly here......if anyone should take it into their heads to try to find you........I'll set it up and go and pick up any post for you, bring it down when we visit."

"God! Hector! I hadn't even thought of that! I won't be able to leave my landlady a forwarding address." Bel breathed a sigh. "All this cloak and dagger.......it's like I won't really be me anymore!" 

"A necessary evil I'm afraid. All part of the deception." Marnie responded sadly. 

"I don't like it! But I understand why it has to be like this. I've met and interviewed women in my position, I've seen how they are treated. I'm well aware of what people will think of me. I'm painfully conscious of what I am. I can't sink much lower. I know that. If it means I'll have to lie.....then I'll do it, to protect the little one." 

Marnie placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. 

"First thing Monday, I need to see the Director General. I'll have to go directly to him. It was he who offered the contract and sent it to me, it's nothing to do with Mr Brown. Does he even have to know?" 

Hector frowned. 

"He'll think it a bit odd if you just vanish from the face of the earth without a word." 

Bel shrugged her shoulders. 

"I don't really want to talk to him. He'll try to dissuade me, he'll fiddle with things......he'll......I don't know.......he'll just be HIM! I don't want to see Lix either. I just want to slip away, and let them all forget about me."

"Alright, I'll call the DG for you, he'll talk to me. I'll see what can be done. No one need be any the wiser."

"Thank you Hector. God! I'll be so glad when this is over, and I'm safely away. I'll feel better then, I'm sure of it. It'll be easier to forget." 

Hector and Marnie exchanged a glance at her words but neither decided to comment.


	12. Gone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel has an appointment with the Director General. 
> 
> Randall isn't sure what's going on.

CHAPTER TWELVE.  
GONE.

First thing on Monday morning Randall was alone in his office. He'd arrived early, straightened the chairs in reception, placed the spare drawing pins on the notice board tidily in one corner.  
Then repaired to his own inner sanctum to rearrange his desk top and drawers. 

Nerves jangling. 

But in a good way. 

All he had to do was be persuasive enough to get Bel to talk to him. He'd rehearsed what he would say to her several times.  
Made up his mind that if she rebuffed him, that would be it. He would promise to leave her alone, not renew his suit again. 

He knew he'd hurt her, acted like an idiot.  
But at least he knew......now. 

She'd been so distracted lately, he felt sure it was because of what had passed between them, she would surely at least hear him out. Want to put an end to the atmosphere that sparked whenever they saw each other. At least that was his fervent hope.  
Given a little time, he was certain they could make a go of it. Despite the difference in their ages, despite everything that had happened to both of them before. 

Her last words to him before she left his home, burned. 

"You remain aloof to gain respect......well you've just lost mine......" 

She was absolutely right of course. He hid behind his mask of detached serenity. It was a lie.  
Inside he boiled. 

His only outlet, his 'fiddling'. A desperate search for order and conformity in his life.

Lix knew him better. At least as his younger self. She'd once described him as 'reckless to the core'.  
Well he'd certainly proved that. 

A glance at his wristwatch. 

She'd be here by now. 

Straightening his tie, he headed for the Newsroom. 

oOo

Bel knocked gently on the door of Sir Ian Jacob. The Director General.  
She felt decidedly clammy, although his reputation was for kindliness rather than anything else. 

A voice from within called admittance. 

Taking a seat, and a deep breath, she waited for him to speak. 

Sitting there, opposite, his hands steepled in front of his face, fingers tapping against his lips thoughtfully, as the reason for her appointment and the subject of her contract was broached.

"I hoped that, after Mr Lyon's death, I would be able to carry on. But I've given the matter some considerable thought, and decided I can't. I'm sorry, but there it is." 

He sat back in his chair and regarded her shrewdly. 

"So you've been got at! Do you mind me asking by whom?" He said eventually. 

"Pardon me? I'm not sure I understand?" Bel was confused. 

"You've been approached, and poached by a rival. What have they offered you? The moon? The stars?" His voice measured and calm but with an undercurrent of annoyance. 

"No. Sir. You misunderstand me. I want out. Completely. I want to go in an entirely new direction. Out of television, out of broadcasting altogether." 

The penny dropped. 

"I see. I see, but I don't understand.......Miss Rowley......you have a bright future. You are a talented producer. Why would you throw all that away?" 

Bel sighed. 

"My heart just isn't in it anymore Sir. I need to break away. Perhaps one day I'll return, if the opportunity arises. But for now, this is the right thing for me. My mind is made up." 

"I'll level with you. Miss Rowley. I've already had a conversation with Mr Madden. I understand you went to him for advice. He seems to think you shouldn't be allowed back on the newsfloor. That by remaining when you may have other agendas might compromise the show. You know what stories they are working on, that could be very valuable information to the right person. He's of the opinion you should just go......if that's your decision. I assume you've previously discussed it with him, before coming to me." 

Her hands twisting in her lap, Bel nodded. 

"He's known I've felt upset for a while. MRS Madden is a personal friend. I felt I needed to talk to someone and ask advice. So I went to them. I needed to be sure I was doing the right thing.....for me. And I'm sure I am." 

"I'm surprised you didn't go to Mr Brown, he is surely far more qualified to give you the advice you crave?" 

"I've known Mrs Madden for some time, we are friends, naturally I preferred to speak to her, rather than to Mr Brown." 

Sir Ian clapped his hands together with a suddenness that made Bel jump. 

"Then there's nothing more to be said." He said with finality. 

"All I will say to you is this, should you change your mind, you know where my office is, and you know how to contact my secretary." 

"Thank you sir." 

Leaving the office, Bel hurried down the stairs. Part of her wanted to go to the Newsroom. But she knew it was a bad idea.  
Stepping out of the lift, she found Marnie already waiting for her in the foyer.  
Never had she been more pleased to see anyone.  
Together they left Broadcasting House, and Bel resolutely refused to look back. 

oOo

Everyone was gathered in the Newsroom as usual. Chatting about their weekend, talking about the news stories and preparing for the Monday morning meeting. 

Randall scanned the assembled company, his eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. 

No Bel. 

Randall did a double take.  
Perhaps she was in her office. Turning on his heel he walked briskly down the corridor and knocked briefly before entering.

"Morning Miss R............"

Empty. 

Back to the newsroom, perhaps she was in the cloakroom. 

Hector was deep in conversation with Miss Cooper, and looked up as he approached. 

Taking his arm, Randall drew him aside, apologising to Miss Cooper as he did so. 

"Do excuse us......"

Hector regarded him impassively, not speaking. 

"Have you seen B......Miss Rowley, this morning?" He asked, keeping his voice as even as he possibly could. 

"I haven't Randall. I'm afraid." He replied noncommittally. 

"That's odd. She doesn't appear to be here, and as far as I know, she hasn't telephoned." 

"Can't help! Sorry." Hector turned to resume his previous conversation. 

Randall Brown was thrown into an inner panic. There was almost certainly a perfectly reasonable explanation for Bel's nonappearance, but he was damned if he could think of it. 

Leaving the room, he went to his own office. Picking up the receiver, he stuck his index finger into the dial and called reception. 

"Hello. It's Mr Brown. Tell me, has Miss Rowley called in sick today perchance?" He asked. 

"Not that I'm aware of Mr Brown. But I believe she had an early appointment with Sir Ian."

"Oh. Right. Of course, she mentioned it. Forgive me for troubling you." 

He hung up, and lowered himself into his chair. 

Why was Bel seeing the Director General? Over his head? Straight to the organ grinder, not the monkey, he reasoned. 

Well. His talk with Bel would just have to wait until tomorrow then. 

Damn. 

oOo

The best part of the week was spent clearing Bel's things, packing them up and loading them into the small Trojan lorry hired for the purpose. 

"Marnie, you are not allowed to lift anything heavy......I'm under strict instructions from Hector, and you mustn't tire yourself!" 

"I'm perfectly fine! And I'm letting the men do it! I'm under strict instructions too!" She laughed. 

As Mrs Madden's cookery programme was on a short hiatus, having just finished its first highly successful series, Marnie had time on her hands. 

She was not like Bel. 

A homemaker.  
Enjoying Domestic Science at school, needlework, embroidery, interiors, soft furnishings, they was her forte.  
She was also fiercely practical and very clever, as Hector had discovered.  
What Bel had learned was that she had a big heart. A capacity for forgiveness, and was a staunch and loyal friend. 

They travelled down to the Cotswolds together, following the van.  
Marnie was to stay with Bel for the week. Let her be seen around the village, introduce her to acquaintances.  
Locals who knew the Madden's and trusted them. 

Before they left Marnie took something from her pocket.  
A small box with a velvet interior.  
"You'll need this." She said. "It belonged to my aunt. You have small fingers like her, it should fit."  
Inside was a plain gold wedding band. 

Bel took it, pushed it onto the third finger of her left hand, and held it out in front of her. 

"Appearances are everything." She remarked, and gave her friend a hug. 

Waking on her first morning, Bel looked outside the mullioned window. 

The village was certainly idyllic. 

Goodness knows how she would fit in here. What on earth would they make of her?

Downstairs, after breakfast, she was soon surrounded by tea chests, the contents spilling out, as she tried to go through her things and begin to unpack. 

"If you give me your birth certificate, I'll pop along to the surgery and register you.....it'll save a bit of time." Marnie said. "Did you get your records from your old GP?"

"No. They are sending them down, by registered post. They wouldn't let me take them." Bel replied distractedly, as she began to unpack a box of 78's."

"What have you got there?" Marnie knelt by her side. 

"All my records! I haven't anything to play them on! I'll have to buy myself something!"

"Oh, I have a Dansette at home, I'll ask Hector to bring it down at the weekend, you can have the use of it. He bought a Radiogram and we use that now, so it's gathering dust!" 

With a wave of her hand, she was off across the village green. Calling a cheery hello to Mrs Young as she passed her by. 

In half an hour she was back. Looking pleased with herself. 

"Well, now Bel. You're all set. You're just newly married from abroad, which is why you've not changed your medical records yet. Your husband is still abroad working in Rhodesia. He will send the marriage certificate on. You've just discovered you're expecting, so you've come home so the baby is born here, and you're down in the country to escape from London....."

"Oh, and you're Mrs Brown!" She added. 

Bel's face froze. 

"Mrs.....B........why.....why did you choose that?" She choked. 

"Well, Mrs Smith or Mrs Jones are too obvious.......so I chose the next best thing........Mrs. Brown. It's perfect." 

"I think I'd have chosen anything rather than that!" Bel replied, recovering herself. 

"Don't be silly! It's fine. No one will be bothered once they get to know you. The less they have to know the better."

A sudden wave of nausea hit Bel. Leaping to her feet she rushed to the bathroom.


	13. Carry on Regardless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall is trying as discreetly as possible to find out where Bel has gone. 
> 
> Meanwhile Bel is learning all about life in a small English village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had a Dansette at home until the seventies! You could stack 10 records on at once! It had a two sided stylus for 78's and 33/45's.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.  
CARRY ON REGARDLESS.

There was seemingly no end to Randall's pain and frustration. 

When Bel did not return the following day, or the next, or the next, he was thrown into a state of agitation and confusion.  
Over the week that followed, while she and Marnie were together down in Gloucestershire, Randall remained desperate for information. 

Keeping his enquiries discreet and feigning mild interest, he first asked Miss Cooper. 

No joy there. 

His next gentle inquisition was to Lix.

"Have you heard from Miss Rowley at all? There are so many rumours flying about its difficult to separate fact from fiction." 

"I've heard the same stories as you." Lix replied, not unkindly. "Goodness knows what got into her head Randall. I heard she went to the DG, refused her new contract. Said she wanted a clean break away from the business. I don't know how true that is. I doubt she left 'cause of you, if that's what you're concerned about." 

"It wasn't that, Lix. If she felt she should leave, then it's her decision, I just thought she would at least come to say goodbye to her colleagues, rather than just disappear in a puff of smoke."

"Goodbye to you, you mean? Why should she do that Randall? She probably couldn't wait to get away from you. Look how you've treated her.......chasing her with your tongue hanging out one minute, then giving her the cold shoulder the next! No wonder she wanted to get away! Who could blame her?" 

"Surely I'm not such a monster, that she couldn't face me? Or give an explanation.....?" 

"My dear Randall, can you imagine her standing in front of you, under that baleful stare of yours, telling you she was leaving because of you, and she couldn't bear to work around you a moment longer?"

Randall was taken aback. 

"Do you think that's the reason she left then? And why I've been kept so firmly out of the loop?" He asked sullenly. 

"Probably! But I don't know the inner workings of her mind! It's just a guess. I expect she actually left because the situation now Freddie is gone is unbearable for her, and it's nothing to do with you at all." 

The next person Randall pumped for information, was Hector.  
A couple of days later. 

"Have you heard how Bel is doing at all?" He enquired nonchalantly. "I was hoping to contact her at some point. To at least wish her well......"

"Sorry Randall. Can't help I'm afraid. I know she saw the DG. Because I advised her too." 

Randall was surprised. 

"Yes. She came to me, a week or so ago. To ask about signing her contract. Quite upset as a matter of fact."

Casting his mind back, Randall recalled the day he'd seen Bel, very obviously in tears, with Hector comforting her. 

Oh Lord!

She'd been so angry when he'd tackled her, he quite thought she was trying to rekindle their affair. 

Jumped to conclusions.

How had he got it so wrong? 

No wonder she'd been so furious with him. 

Had he been less stupidly fixated on her, whilst treating her so cruelly, Bel might have felt able to come to him for advice.

Randall stumbled back to his office. 

Head in his hands. 

What in God's name had he done? Such a fool. 

Now she was gone, he knew not where. And it was his bloody fault. He was now more convinced of that than ever.

He HAD to find her, and make things right. Somehow. 

He had to. 

oOo

Once Marnie and Hector returned to London on the Sunday, Bel was plunged into depression.

Having her friend for company all week, then both of them for the weekend, meant she suddenly felt very alone.

Afraid to set foot outside the door. 

It was only going to get worse. 

Throughout the day, she had a series of callers. 

Mrs Young.....

"Are you alright dear?" 

"Fine thank you! Just getting settled. A little tired!" 

The elderly housekeeper cast her eyes around the living room. 

"You've got it set up nicely!" She smiled. 

"Getting there!" Bel replied. 

"No photos of your new husband?" She remarked. 

Bel laughed. 

"I haven't unpacked them yet! There's been so much to organise, hardly know if I'm coming or going!" 

Good God! Her every move was going to be scrutinised. She must be very careful. 

The Doctor......

"Thought I'd come and check in on you, say hello. Give you the details of the midwife....we have recently started antenatal classes in Stow, if you'd like to put your name down, not just yet of course, but later." 

"Thank you Doctor. It's kind. Yes, I'll come to classes."

"Going to be tough for you on your own. Hubby going to make it back for the birth?"

"I sincerely hope so!" She smiled, twiddling the ring on her wedding finger. 

Reverend Timothy Baker. The vicar......

"Morning Mrs Brown. Just called in to see how you're settling in!" 

Ye Gods! It was busier than Piccadilly Circus! 

"Will we welcome you in church? Communion at 10am on Sunday's or Evensong at half six if you prefer."

"I'm not sure Reverend. I'm not really much of a churchgoer......perhaps."

"Well, we'll be thrilled to see you, and it'll help you to get to know your neighbours." 

Yes, thought Bel, so that they can see whether or not if I'm suitable, respectable and acceptable company, or a godless, irreligious, hussy no doubt! 

Margaret, the vicar's wife......

"Good morning dear! I've bought you some eggs from my hens! They're wonderful layers! And I have a surplus!" 

Bel accepted the gift with grateful thanks. 

"It'll all be a bit overwhelming at first." She smiled, there was an air of gentle empathy about her.  
"But you'll get used to village life. People will get used to you too. It's a steep learning curve. I know it.....believe me, I know what it's like to be a fish out of water! And the baby on the way too! How did you know Mrs Madden?" 

"Er, I um......worked with her husband Hector."

"Really? How exciting! In television?" 

"Yes, but only behind the scenes." 

"But you came from Rhodesia? Your husband is there?" 

Bel nodded. For some reason, the look in this woman's eyes, her bright interest, her kindly face, affected her deeply. 

Her emotions were all over the place since Marnie's departure. Tears began to come unbidden. 

"Oh my dear!" She found herself enveloped in a hug. "It must be so hard. Having to come here by yourself. But you'll get over it, I'm quite sure. I'm always here if you need a friendly shoulder, or some company." 

Bel did her best to pull herself together. With a massive effort she managed. 

"I'll be fine!" She confirmed. 

Margaret left after half and hour. 

Bel was exhausted. 

How could she continue to live a lie? Many lies? 

She never felt so alone.

oOo

With a sharp and confident rap on the door, Randall stepped back and waited. 

It was a few seconds until the door was opened gingerly and Bel's ex landlady peered out. 

Randall removed his hat. 

"Good morning." He began politely. 

"Whad'you want?" The woman replied brusquely.

"I beg your pardon. You might remember me? I've called in the past to escort Miss Rowley to functions. I'm Mr Brown. We were work colleagues."

Wiping her hands on her apron she regarded him impassively. 

"Oh yeah." She responded. 

"I was wondering, if she'd left you a forwarding address? She left so suddenly I didn't have a chance to speak to her." 

"She didn't! Just upped and went, without a by your leave! I ask you! Rent paid till the end of the month too. Talk about moonlight flit! Ruddy odd if you ask me! Such a nice young woman too, sorry to lose her." 

"So she didn't say where she was going or why?" Randall took another step back.

" 'Fraid not Duckie. 'Er friend came and helped her pack her stuff up, and that was it! Very sudden. I was quite upset." 

"Her friend?" Randall enquired. 

"Yeah. Smart piece. Beautifully dressed. Dark hair, immaculate. Quite a looker." 

"Ah. Yes. I think I know. Alright. Thank you so much for your time. So sorry to have troubled you." 

Randall doffed his hat again and turned to walk away. Deep in thought. 

There was no doubt in his mind, the description was of Marnie. Why was she involved? After all that had passed between herself and Bel and Hector?  
More to the point why had Hector not volunteered the information? Or did he not know? 

Randall was more confused than ever. 

Contacting Sir Ian Jacob himself had revealed little that was new. For a while the DG had been unavailable to him, which annoyed him greatly. His position as Head of News seemed meaningless in the face of a wall of silence. He'd told his superior this in so many words. Barely able to conceal his anger. 

"My producer disappears from the face of the earth, rumours abound, that she's been offered posts 'on the other side', that she was unhappy working with me, that she was distraught after the demise of Mr Lyon, and couldn't carry on, and a load of other bunkum. All I want is the truth." 

"All I can say to you Mr Brown, is that she came to see me, and told me she didn't wish to sign and renew her contract. She assured me she had not been approached by our rivals, and that she wanted a complete break away from broadcasting. It was Mr Madden who suggested to me, that she may possibly compromise the programme, and should leave immediately. I felt he had a point, and I made her sign a confidentiality clause to that effect. Preventing her from working in broadcasting again for a twelve month. She happily agreed."

"But why was I not even consulted on this? Why was I not told until after she'd gone?" Randall was livid. 

"Because she wanted no fuss, and no protracted goodbyes. She'd made her decision and that was that. I acceded to her wishes on the subject. For what it's worth Mr Brown, I think she felt she was letting the side down, and didn't want to see you or her other colleagues face to face." 

Randall marched out of the office, down the stairs and out into the sunshine. His fury lasted all the way home.  
He was running out of ideas.  
Where the hell had she gone?

oOo

Bel wandered down to the post office and village shop. 

She was greeted warmly. 

"So nice to have you here Mrs Brown!" 

Bel winced at the name.

"The Madden's are such nice people. So much has changed since before the war. People used to arrive with letters of introduction, nowadays there's no way of telling who people are, so it's nice that you're a friend of Mr and Mrs Madden. So we know what we're getting so to speak." 

Bel blushed furiously. 

Having chosen her purchases, and asked for some postage stamps, she reached for her purse.

"That'll be three shillings and fourpence three farthings. Thank you, Mrs Brown." 

Bel paid, wished as cheerful a good afternoon as she could manage, and left hurriedly. 

"She's a quiet one!" The grocer's wife remarked to her husband. "More there than meets the eye, I'll be bound."  
"Give her a chance, love. She's only been here five minutes! She doesn't know anyone yet." 

"Mother Young says she hasn't got a picture of her husband in the house.....that's odd don't you think?" 

"Oh, she's an old busybody! The poor girl hasn't had a chance to unpack yet! And I have to say this, but it's none of her business! Perhaps he was a bit of a bugger, and she's run away to get away from him? Whatever the situation, let's not judge her too quickly, hey!" 

Bel, reaching home. Put a record onto the Dansette that Hector had bought down from London for her and flopped down onto the sofa, with a sigh. 

_Petit Fleur. Sidney Bechet._

Bel closed her eyes and listened as the music filled the room. 

What a day!


	14. New Lives.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall contrives a meeting with Marnie, but learns nothing.  
> He is being driven to distraction with thoughts of Bel. 
> 
> Bel is further into her pregnancy. She lets something slip in a moment of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sputnik story is one that is a real event. The dates are correct. Once again thank you to mum for the memories!!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.  
NEW LIVES.

If Randall Brown thought for one moment that not seeing Bel each day would help him forget her, he was sadly mistaken.  
As the weeks passed he became more withdrawn and distracted.  
Every avenue he could possibly think of had been covered in his search for her. 

He'd tried several times, unsuccessfully, to contact Marnie Madden. 

It was quite obvious she was avoiding him, and Hector also fielded him most effectively. 

Stymied at every turn. 

When he finally caught up with her three months had passed.

Mrs Madden was blooming. Her rounded stomach now carried before.  
He contrived to bump into her at Claridge's where, through surreptitious inquiries, he found she went to Afternoon Tea once a month with lady friends. 

"Why Mrs Madden? Fancy seeing you here!" 

"Hello Mr Brown." She replied somewhat stiffly, and reddened visibly.

"I'm meeting friends or else I'd ask you to join me." Her tone was all politeness.

"No, no. Not at all. I'm in a rush to get back as it happens. But you could answer me a question though.....since you're here......" Randall kept his voice light and casual. 

"I was wondering if you knew where Miss Rowley had gone. It is a great sadness to me that I didn't get the chance to at least say goodbye and wish her well before she left." 

"What makes you think I'd know where she is?" Marnie hedged. 

"Oh! Just something her landlady said. I went to her flat, naturally thinking she'd still be living there, to call on her, as one does. Imagine my surprise when I was told she'd moved away, and a friend of hers had come to help her pack? The description she gave of you was startlingly accurate."

He watched the woman's face carefully. 

Randall was used to conversing with politicians, he knew all the tells and the little tics, but Marnie kept her face expressionless.  
By God, she was clever! 

"Well, yes, I helped her pack. But I'm afraid I couldn't possibly tell you where she's gone." She responded with a stubborn firmness. 

"Is that because you don't know, or you won't tell me?" Randall pursued. 

"Why are you so keen to know? I thought it was common knowledge that she'd decided to take a break from broadcasting, and gone off to follow a new path. At least that's what my husband informs me." 

"Yes. I heard that too. And it's just a polite enquiry, nothing more." He noticed how cleverly she'd avoided his question and asked one of her own. 

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't give you the information you require, and look.....my friends have arrived! So I'll have to take my leave. I'll wish you good day, Mr Brown." With a slight nod of her head she turned away, leaving Randall frustrated yet again. 

It was a few days later when, crossing the road from the tube station one morning, Randall spotted a familiar blonde head in the crowd.  
Walking briskly, away from the Television Centre, he hurried after her, only for her to turn, two hundred yards along the street, and he realised it wasn't Bel at all. 

Stupid.

He retraced his steps, slammed into his office and shut the door firmly behind him. 

A month later, it happened again. 

This time he was so convinced he rushed up and touched the lady in question on the shoulder.

"Bel?" 

The woman turned to face him in confusion, and he stepped back in dismay. 

"So sorry! I beg your pardon, I thought you were someone else....." 

It was Lix who found him, his head down on the desk, hands clasped over it. Shaking with a mixture of rage and despair. The encounter had quite unnerved him. 

He tried to fend off the arm she placed around his shoulder. 

"Randall......what is all this? What's wrong with you?" 

"Nothing. Leave me be. For God's sake." He refused to look at her. 

"My dear man! This is me! Talk to me, for the love of God! Tell me.....what's happened?" 

Pulling up a chair and lighting a cigarette Lix sat facing him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.  
To her surprise, the whole sorry tale came tumbling out. Everything from his and Bel's night together following the theatre, to his search for her every day since she'd left. No tears, no histrionics, but with a tremble in the voice that was barely controlled, fiddling constantly with items on his desk. 

Miss Storm listened intently, in silence, smoking throughout. 

"Randall, if you thought my jibes about your age difference and all, were meant meanly, they weren't. I said it because I honestly felt you were making a fool of yourself over her. I see now that I was wrong. You simply love her. And that makes me sad, because you and I could have had that once, and I realised some time before she left that Bel had the love from you that I missed out on. You two should be together. I'm sorry. Very sorry." 

"I don't know where she's bloody gone! And I don't know how to go about finding her!" The exasperation in his tone was so profound. 

"Perhaps she doesn't want to be found? Has that occurred to you?" Lix answered gravely. 

"But why? Why would she just disappear like that? It's ridiculous! If I could just talk to her.......I'm sure I could make her see sense.......what am I going to do Lix? This is killing me......literally, I think I'm going mad, I keep thinking I see her, everywhere I look." The eyes that looked up at hers were so desperate and sad, that it was difficult to hold in her own emotion. 

"I think you should take a holiday Randall. Go down to Devon, or Cornwall, travel around a bit. Take some time off. Two weeks, three.....when was the last time you had a proper break?" 

"Ages." He replied, desolate.

"Then do it Randall." Lix got to her feet and made for the door. "Before it sends you loopy. And for what it's worth.....I'm sure Bel loved you too......call it feminine instinct, but it was there in her eyes when she looked at you."

oOo

Bel was not cut out for the provincial life. 

Gossip and tittle tattle. She was accustomed to dealing with the big news stories of the day.  
Finger on the pulse of the nation. 

Not who's dog had just had puppies, or whether the postman's bicycle had a puncture. 

For appearances sake she attended church infrequently, just enough to keep her on the right side of godliness.  
But she turned down offers to join the Women's Institute or do the church flowers. 

A great deal of her time was spent out walking, if the weather was fine, or in the reading rooms if it was not. She visited the little tea shop, or stayed at home waiting for the next visit from Marnie and Hector.  
Tangible links with her former life, some lively conversation worth having. 

The non appearance of her 'husband' had caused some speculation amongst the villagers, but nothing had been said directly to her, and she kept herself relatively quiet and detached for the most part. 

She lived off her own small savings accumulated from her work deposited in her Post Office account, and the money her parents left her. The cottage, being rent free, meant she could exist perfectly adequately and relatively frugally, without depleting her nest egg too much.  
Marnie and Hector bought her hampers of goodies from Fortnum's when they visited, and the latest magazines, anything to make her days a little brighter. 

Hector had, several times, offered her money, but she resolutely refused. The Madden's had done enough, she could ask them for no more.  
She hoped that once the baby came, she could perhaps find a way to earn some money.  
It was Marnie who suggested she try writing some magazine articles. 

This she duly had a stab at, and after two or three rejections, one was taken up by Woman's Weekly, and she received her first cheque through the post, much to her delight. 

Her one friend and stalwart, was, somewhat surprisingly, Margaret Baker. The vicar's wife. Not possessed with the small mindedness of some of the villagers, she was a breath of fresh air.  
Eminently honest, practical and matter of fact. Not pushy or cloying with the religious aspect, whilst following sound principles and possessing an apparently infinite amount of common sense, Bel found her an admirable companion. 

This morning she'd called in to see Bel, for the first time in a couple of days. 

"Morning!" she called cheerfully, walking in through the door, which was invariably on the latch, as were most village houses.

Bel came through from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. 

"Look at you!!" She continued amiably. "If you haven't got a great big bouncing boy in there, then I'm an atheist!" 

Bel regarded the swell of her stomach, rubbing a hand over it fondly. 

"He certainly kicks like one." She responded. 

"I come bearing gifts!" Margaret began to open a brown paper parcel she bought in tucked under one arm. 

Bel came to her side, looking over her shoulder with interest. 

"One of my parishioners from Stow has just given birth, thought you might have use for these."

She produced several maternity smocks. 

"And looking at you.....not a moment too soon!" She laughed, holding one up against Bel's burgeoning tummy. 

The easy banter between the two women was a tonic to Bel, who now had no regular visit from Marnie to look forward to, as she was expecting her own child any day. 

Which was why, in a moment of weakness, she let her guard down. 

"Only weeks to go! Are you excited?" Margaret asked, her face alight with merriment. 

"I'm absolutely petrified." Bel admitted. 

"Oh, my dear. Won't your husband arrive home in time?" Her voice was full of sympathy. 

"No." Bel's face crumpled with a suddenness that tore at her friend's heartstrings. 

"Forgive me Bel. Please tell me to shut up if you want me to, I won't be in the least offended....."

The vicar's wife sat down at Bel's side and took both her hands. 

"But, no letters to and fro, no photos.........there is no Mr Brown is there? No husband I mean?" 

A look of abject horror passed across the younger woman's face, but she shook her head emphatically. 

"Actually there IS a Mr Brown, but he's not MY Mr Brown. I'm not married, I fell in love with a.......with someone, and we had a brief affair.......very brief.......so brief you would hardly have noticed it."  
Her sobs increased threefold.  
"This baby......." She smoothed a hand over her stomach lovingly. ".......was the result of that affair. I was going to get rid of it......but it was wrong Maggie, I couldn't do it. I love the child's father......so desperately, and I love this little one too.........and my whole life here is a BLOODY LIE!  
There!  
Now you know!  
Once everyone finds out I'll have to leave........keep moving on......where no one knows me......God! What a wretched mess my life is!" 

An arm was threaded warmly around her shoulders. 

"Bel! Dear.....they won't find out from me. Never fear. I don't judge you.....I never would. You are very, very brave! In the Bible it says, _"he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone." John 8:7._ It's a very true saying. Your secret is quite safe with me." 

Bel's eyes widened as the realisation of her words sunk in. 

"You won't tell? Oh Lord, Maggie, I've made some monumental mistakes in my life, but I refuse to see this as one of them. I want this child.....so much. I've given up so much to have him, but I've gained a great deal too.  
I just wish He could be here with me, and I wish he knew....but it can never be. I have no way of telling him now anyway. He doesn't know where I am, probably doesn't want to know. I imagine he's got on with his life and forgotten all about me. But I can't tell you how much I miss him, and long for him. Every single day." 

The heaviness of her situation was tempered by the lightness Bel Rowley felt after so many months of living a life founded on untruths.

"Hector and Marnie are complicit. Without the two of them, and their staunch friendship I think I'd probably not even be here at all. Especially Marnie......she is a true Christian, Margaret, she really is. The good Samaritan. She could so easily have told me to sling my hook! I will never be able to thank them for what they've done for me.....never." 

Mrs Baker patted her hands.

"Come along now, dry your eyes. You are not alone, and you'll be alright. I will come to you when the baby comes, be with you......you don't have to go through the birth by yourself.....I won't tell lies, but I can be economical with the truth! And you know what? The Lord moves in mysterious ways....his wonders to perform! None of us know what the future holds." 

oOo

Another month trickled by.

The Hour was buzzing with the latest story from Russia. 

_"And on air in 3.......2........1"_

_"Camera one........go Hector......."_

_"History changed today October 4, 1957, when the Soviet Union successfully launched Sputnik I. The world's first artificial satellite was about the size of a beach ball (58 cm.or 22.8 inches in diameter), weighed only 83.6 kg. or 183.9 pounds, and took about 98 minutes to orbit the Earth on its elliptical path. That launch ushered in new political, military, technological, and scientific developments._

_A Russian satellite has been launched into space - the first man-made object ever to leave the Earth's atmosphere._  
_The Russian news agency, Tass, said the satellite Sputnik was now 560 miles (900 kilometres) above the Earth and circling it every hour-and-a-half._  
_Scientists predict the metal sphere will eventually burn up in the atmosphere but they hope it will send important data back to Earth before doing so._  
_The Soviet Union and the USA have both committed to launching satellites for research as part of the International Geophysical Year._  
_Delegations from both countries' IGY committees were at a reception at the Russian embassy in Washington when news of Sputnik's launch came through._  
_The chairman of the American IGY committee, Dr Joseph Kaplan, congratulated the Russians on a "remarkable achievement"._

_"Our studio guest this evening is astronomer Patrick Moore, who is here to discuss the implications of this amazing phenomenon."_

_"And camera two, panning to Patrick Moore.......in 3......2......1"_

As the programme ended, Randall went back to his office. Exhausted. Burned out.  
To his surprise Lix was there, apparently waiting for him. 

"Holiday Randall! When?" She asked without pulling any punches. 

"I've put my request in! I'm off in a fortnight's time." He replied, removing his spectacles and rubbing his forehead with his hand. 

"Where are you going?" She enquired. 

"I thought of just spending time on the boat. But I need to get right away. So I'm heading to Wales. Near Brecon. A cottage. It's quiet there, and beautiful......like Scotland only not quite so far!" 

"Good! Not a moment before time. Take it Randall......relax, lose yourself for a while......it'll do you the world of good! And don't worry about this place! It'll still be here!" 

She made to leave him.

"Lix!" His head came up. She stopped in the doorway, and turned. "Thank you!" 

"Don't mention it!" She smiled and was gone. 

oOo

It was a cool Autumn day. The leaves were turning and falling. Burnished colours of bronze and gold. A stiff breeze, but fresh and clean. 

Bel walked slowly. This morning she'd woken early and felt somehow different.  
She was very large now, and waddled rather than walked, her swollen belly heavy and sore. 

Half way home, she felt the first twinge. Stopping for a moment or two, she waited. Nothing more, perhaps she'd imagined it.  
Reaching home, she put the kettle on. 

With a sudden gush, there was fluid trickling down her legs.  
Thrown into an immediate panic, she turned, to see Margaret coming into the house, calling out as she did!"  
"Bel! You there?" 

"Maggie!" She cried, relieved beyond comprehension. "Kitchen! Come quick!"  
Assessing the situation instantly, her friend smiled.

"Ah! A timely appearance! Stay right where you are, I'll run over to the telephone box......be two ticks!!" 

Hurrying across the green, Mrs Baker dialled the midwife, listening for the pips and then pushing her penny into the slot. 

"Hello Joyce! I think Baby Brown is on the way!! No fear, I'll stay with mother.....we'll see you very soon. Cheery bye!"


	15. Comings and Goings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel has given birth to her baby. 
> 
> Randall is working hard but has booked his holiday. 
> 
> A series of events are in progress.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the details of Randall's route are correct as to The Fifties. (No motorways, and no bridge crossing of the River Severn!)
> 
> I thought all along, that the coincidence of this chapter was too contrived. I thought, what the hell, it's a story. But this evening I watched Long Lost Famly, a programme where people search for family members they've lost touch with for whatever reason.  
> A man contacted the programme searching for his birth mother. She was proving hard to find. At _exactly the same time_ a woman contacted the same programme searching for a woman of the same name. After DNA tests it was discovered they were half brother and sister.......neither knew of the other's existence.......what are the chances!!!???
> 
> Coincidences DO happen. Weird spooky shit that warrants the X files music in the background.....so hey......this is one of them!!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.  
COMINGS AND GOINGS.

Hours and hours passed in a haze of pain. 

With each wave of agony Bel was tiring, tendrils of damp hair stuck to her flushed face. 

At first she paced the floor, one hand on her back, but when the strength of her contractions became too much she was forced to lie down. 

Now she was almost there. Maggie with a cool flannel against her forehead, soothing her and willing her on for just one more effort. 

"Come on Bel. You're so close, he's almost here." 

As the head crowned Bel gave a long protracted scream of agony, as in a gush of amniotic fluid and blood her baby was born. 

"It's a boy! And he's a whopper!" The midwife exclaimed. "No wonder he's taken so long to fight his way out!" 

Bel, exhausted beyond all reason, was handed her child as soon as he was weighed, measured and cleaned up. Swaddled in a towel he was placed into the crook of her arm. 

She stared down into the tiny crinkled face. 

The emotion welled up inside her, the hours of pain she'd just endured, the extreme stress and suffering of the past months, all culminating in this moment. 

"Oh Randall! Randall!" She sobbed and sobbed. "He's so precious, and he has your mouth....."

She looked up in anguish at her friend.  
"Oh Maggie. I need him so badly. Say a prayer Maggie, if you say one today.......for me.......if there is a God up there.....ask Him to send him to me......please!" 

Her companion enveloped both mother and child in a tight embrace.  
Whispering into her hair so that Joyce, the midwife might not hear.

"I'll pray for that with all my heart, Bel, that your man will get to see his dearest little one, and know how much love there is in this room at this moment." 

"I'll take him now Bel." The midwife smiled. "We'll give you a nice wash and make you comfortable. You've had a tough time and you need to rest now." 

Cradling the newborn in her arms, Margaret looked down at the now sleeping Bel. The suffering she'd borne still etched on her face.  
She closed her eyes and mouthed a silent prayer. 

oOo

_Telegram from Brown to Madden.......5th October 1957._

_Safe arrival of Frederick Laurence Brown STOP Born 10.34pm STOP 8lbs 2oz STOP Mother and baby well STOP Thanks so much my friends always xxxx STOP_

oOo

Randall worked out his final few weeks with a sense of forthcoming freedom. He was desperate to get away. 

Although Autumn, the weather remained temperate, with little rain, the nights gradually drawing in, soft and mellow, the mists of the season seemingly suspended over everything. Each morning he woke to crystal water droplets hanging from every branch and twig. Dewy red berries on the hawthorn, and rose hips. The brambles laden with dusky purple fruit. 

Randall planned meticulously. Nothing left to chance. 

Packing up his beloved little Morris. 

From his North London home he would head for Oxford, via St Albans and Tring. Where he planned to stay the night with a friend from Paris, now living there.  
There was no rush to reach his eventual destination and he was looking forward to being out of the city and on the open road. 

He would take the road less travelled, the B roads, the windy roads, with little or no traffic. 

In short he would pootle! 

Randall liked pootling. 

Leaving Oxford he next planned to take the Chipping Norton road, and stay the second night in Cheltenham. A town he'd visited before, found to be very genteel and would provide a most pleasant diversion from his route.  
Before crossing into Wales via Gloucester on the A40, thus avoiding having to take the Severn Ferry, a bore at the best of times, then making his way towards Monmouth, Abergavenny and finally to Brecon. 

He was actually excited, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt that way. 

Yes he could. 

He could remember the exact moment he last felt excitement. 

The day the taxi stopped outside Bel's flat, at four thirty in the afternoon, to take her to the theatre to see Laurence Olivier, and she'd come out......with her beautiful smile, in that dress........

Randall dropped the cup he was holding. It smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor.

With a heavy sigh he fetched the brush and dust pan and swept the up the shards.  
Time to leave.  
Before his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him again. 

oOo

The fortnight following the difficult birth were hard for Bel. She barely left her bed for a week, and relied heavily on the vicar's wife, the midwife and Mrs Young, to look in on her and make sure she was coping.

She was overwhelmed with such conflicting emotions, and was invariably in tears.  
Tears over which she seemed to have no mastery nor have any real reason for. 

Just holding little Freddie, as she always referred to him, cuddling him, breast feeding him, would have her sobbing uncontrollably, clutching him to her. 

"You've got a touch of the baby blues, Mrs Brown." Joyce the midwife told her, in her matter of fact way. "It'll pass and you'll feel right as rain again." 

But it didn't. 

Not even a visit from Hector and Marnie and their own new little one helped. 

Now two months, baby George Madden was a delicate little thing. In stark contrast to Freddie, who was a hungry bruiser and no mistake. All pink and round and shiny. With the happiest of dispositions.  
Like a suckling piglet.  
Chubby and contented, as long as he was being regularly fed! 

Gradually Bel regained her strength, if not her peace of mind.  
Beginning slowly with a jaunt around the village with the infant in his pram, then slowly going for longer walks.  
Bel would talk to him constantly, almost as if she were talking to Randall. Telling him stories, and everything she wished for him, while he burbled away in return, uncomprehending.  
Today she decided to walk the narrow road into Stow-on-the-Wold. 

The clinic was held there, where the new babies aged between one month and six weeks were weighed and measured, and she would receive a post natal check up and advice.  
It was the furthest she'd walked since giving birth, but it was a fine November day, with no rain and not too chilly, she felt the fresh air would do her the world of good.  
Being cooped up inside the cottage was stifling, she could also escape from the confines of the village and treat herself to lunch in The Talbot. 

oOo

The same cool breeze ruffled Randall's hair as he passed through Chipping Norton. He was enjoying the run.  
The sunshine pleasant and still quite warm. 

It was then that his little car gave a rather tuberculous cough and a splutter, then died on him. Coasting to a stop he pulled over. 

Opening the bonnet, steam poured out angrily into his face. The engine had overheated. 

Damn. 

Randall leaned against the side door, wiping his hands on a rag. Casting his eyes about him. He was on a quiet country road, bordered by nothing but fields, not a soul in sight, several miles from anywhere. 

He sat down on the grass verge by the roadside, and waited.  
Nothing else for it. 

His patient stoicism was eventually rewarded by the appearance of a tractor. 

"What seems to be the trouble?" The farmhand joined Randall peering at the engine knowledgeably.

"Overheated I think." Randall replied. "Damn nuisance." 

"Your fan belt's gone Sir." He said, after a few moments fiddling. 

"Got a ladies stocking about you?" He then asked, with a smile. "It'll do a makeshift repair, get you to the next town......"

"Drat!" Randall laughed. "That's the one thing I haven't got!" 

"Tell you what.....I'll hook you up with a tow rope, take you to the garage in Stow.....they'll be able to fix you up." 

"How kind.....thank you." The two shook hands cordially and they were soon heading down the road, Randall perched next to the ploughman behind the tractor wheel. His Morris trundling along behind, it's front wheels hitched off the ground. 

The little garage in Stow was also the blacksmith's forge, and a hardware store. The kind of emporium where you can buy anything from garden hose to emulsion to curtain hooks. 

"It'll probably take till tomorrow." The garage owner said, wiping his black grease engrained hands on a rag more greasy than his hands themselves.  
"You could take a room at The White Hart.....be ready after breakfast. Then you'll be on your way again."  
"I'm not in any great hurry." Randall replied.  
"My boy will help you with your suitcase and bags." He smiled amiably. "And I'll send him along to you in the morning, let you know it's ready."  
Ferreting in his trouser pockets for some change, the garage owner shook his head.  
"That's alright Sir.....no need......just pay me for the parts and labour, tomorrow before you leave." 

So it was that Randall found himself in the saloon bar of the White Hart, tucking into a, frankly, excellent lunch and a nice pot of tea.  
Idly he gazed out of the window, almost directly into the weak November sunlight. 

People were coming and going busily, shopping, chatting, dog walking. There were some market stalls in the main square, fruit and vegetables, jams and chutneys, cakes and fresh farm eggs. 

When he first saw the blonde woman pushing a pram, he looked away again, the sun bright in his eyes.  
It wasn't until he looked a second time that he was almost sure........Bel?  
No........it couldn't be. 

Because he'd been mistaken twice before, he convinced himself it wasn't her.  
Damn it, but he saw her everywhere he went! Truly he was going mad.  
As he watched, nevertheless captivated, unable to look away, she turned in the direction of the window, speaking to a woman in a headscarf as they passed each other. 

It was definitely her.

The fact she was pushing a pram, passed him by completely. So mesmerised and so utterly astonished was he at the sight of her. 

Leaving his partially eaten lunch and 2 shillings and sixpence under the saucer he rushed out into the street. 

She was gone.

Had he imagined it? Surely not. Not this time. 

Frantically he scoured the market area, and the nearby shops. Nothing. 

Randall was beside himself with anguish. Then he spotted the lady in the headscarf she'd stopped to speak to. Crossing the road he hurried over to her. 

"Excuse me!" He began politely, and with as little urgency as he could force himself to muster.  
The woman turned and regarded him with puzzlement. 

"Yes?" She said. 

"The blonde woman......you were just talking to, a few moments ago.......where did she go?" 

The woman looked somewhat taken aback. 

"Who wants to know?" She challenged. 

"Please!" Randall could not keep the desperation from his voice. "She's a friend......I just wanted to say hello." 

"She's gone home." The woman replied warily. 

Randall puffed in frustration, slapping his hands against his sides, he was beginning to lose his reason. 

"Please!" He hissed. "Please tell me......" 

He glanced wildly up and down the street, in the forlorn hope she'd reappear. 

"She lives in Lower Slaughter. But you've missed her. She gone." The woman said with finality and walked away. 

Randall walked down the street a little, he stopped another passerby. 

"I beg your pardon, how far to Lower Slaughter?" He enquired, he was breathing quickly now, almost on the edge of losing control. 

"Two odd miles, that way!" The young man pointed away down the street. 

"Thank you!" Randall breathed and hurried in the direction indicated. 

Reaching the village green Randall had no idea where Bel lived or where she might have gone. But he wasn't giving up now.  
He marched straight up to the first door he came to and knocked. 

It was Mrs Young who answered. Looking suspicious. 

"Yes?" She asked, not really giving him a second glance. 

"Pardon me.....um......my name is Brown.....and I am......." Randall was going to explain he was a work colleague of Bel's, when the woman's face changed dramatically. 

"Good lord!" She exclaimed. "Well......I must say.....you're not what I expected at all!!" 

She looked Randall up and down critically. 

Now it was his turn to be confused. 

"You'll be looking for your wife.......? Bel?" She smiled. 

"I........I, er.........yes......" Randall stammered. 

"Three doors along......well I'll be a monkey's uncle.......WHAT a surprise and no mistake!" She chuckled. 

"Half the village didn't think you even existed........and here you are.....large as life.....well I never!" 

Randall was completely nonplussed, but didn't want to apprise the woman, and so, backing away, confirmed he'd got the information right. 

"Three doors that way....?" He asked pointing to his left. 

"I'll take you if you like......" She volunteered. 

"No! No.....I couldn't possibly trouble you.....I'll find it!" He hurried away down the path, not looking back.  
Mrs Young stood on her doorstep watching him go, shaking her head in disbelief. 

His nerves were completely shot to pieces by the time he tapped on the cottage door indicated to him. 

Her wonderful, musical, beautiful voice came to him from within. 

"Maggie.....the door's open.....you don't have to........."

For a few agonising seconds the two stood staring at each other without comprehension. 

_"Hello Bel."_ He said, finally. 

His voice so quiet it was barely a rasp. Emotion so raw. Heart pounding in his chest fit to burst through his shirt. 

No words. 

Her eyes wide with shock, staring into his, her face blanched so white he thought she might pass out, after a few seconds her hand came up and clamped across her mouth in an explosive puff of breath. 

"Randall." She whispered. "Good God! You came."


	16. Prayer Answered.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall has found his love. 
> 
> Purely by an accident of circumstances. 
> 
> Will Randall abandon his principles?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah.....I know what you're gonna say......that's never gonna happen! 
> 
> I know! But hey......it's a story, and I'm a sucker for a bit of romance.....and a bit of artistic coincidence!! 
> 
> So sue me!! 
> 
> Lol.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
PRAYER ANSWERED. 

_"Bel."_

He didn't seem able to articulate and nor did she.  
Standing there. Face to face. 

He made no move to enter, and she didn't step back and invite him in. 

"I've been searching........I'd almost given up hope." He stammered. "Why? Bel......why? You didn't even say goodbye. Not a word."

His voice quavered slightly. 

Tears spilled out from under her lashes, she finally opened the door wider.

"You'd better come in." She whispered. 

Doffing his hat, he bent his head slightly under the lintel. Entering her cosy living room with its bright fire. Casting his eyes around as he did so. 

Both so formal. So uncomfortable. 

"May I take your coat?" She asked, sedately, her cheeks wet. 

"Bel......I wanted to see you so badly........I needed to......there were things I needed to say. But I couldn't find you. I tried everything."

"You've been looking for me? Why?" She enquired, wiping her face with the back of her hand. 

"Why the hell do you think?" 

He began pacing then, wringing his hands, then standing with his back to her. Shoulders hunched. Head bowed. 

"To tell you what a bloody fool I am. To tell you I'm sorry. Sorry I treated you so appallingly. To tell you how much you mean to me, how I've thought about you every bloody second of every bloody day since that night. And I'm sorry, just so bloody bloody sorry........"

He broke then, pushing his spectacles up onto his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

"I thought I'd never see you again.......I can't believe I've found you......it's a miracle.......it's ridiculous........it shouldn't have happened.....why did you leave Bel......just like that?" 

She laid both hands on his arms, turning him to face her. 

"I had to." She said gently. "I had no choice. As far as I was concerned it was over. You made it quite clear that morning. I couldn't stay Randall, and I couldn't bear it......seeing you every day.....wanting you.......but you said it was a mistake........that it couldn't be."

"Oh God! Don't remind me of the things I said! It was Lix who made me realise......."

"Lix?" She interrupted, in astonishment. 

"Yes. She told me I was in love with you......said it was obvious.......but she hadn't realised until after you left, and she saw how I reacted......"

"And are you?" She asked shyly, not releasing his arms from her grip. 

"Am I what?" He said, raising his eyes to meet her's. 

"In love with me?" Her bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably, as she waited for him to answer. 

"Oh Bel......madly......ridiculously.........completely........why did I not see it? Why did I push you away?"

Then he suddenly looked fearful, and tried to pull away.

"Is that news unwelcome to you? I swear, I'll walk out of here and never darken your door again....."

"Randall Brown! Don't you dare! Someone said a little prayer for me, a few weeks ago.....and that prayer has just been answered." 

She pulled his arms towards her and put her own around his neck, holding him tight and close.  
Their noses inches apart. 

"You prayed for me?" He said, his tone incredulous. 

"Oh Randall......I wanted you to come to me so much......these months have been so hard......I've been living in a nightmare.......and now here you are.......I can't believe it.......I was broken when you called it off......I thought my chance of happiness was gone forever........"

Before she could finish, he bought his lips to hers, kissing her hard and forcefully. Releasing her for a moment, then renewing his assault until she was breathless with it. 

"I love you." She whispered, gently. "I've loved you all along."

He tried to pull back but she wouldn't be parted from him. 

"Just hold me Randall........with no regrets, no looking back, no mistakes.......just hold me tight.....please." 

His hand caressed across her back tenderly, his voice muffled into her hair.

"The lady down the row, where I knocked.......she asked if I was looking for my wife......" He murmured quietly. 

Bel froze. 

Pulling away from him. Looking earnestly into his face........she placed her hand with the ring on her wedding finger, into his. 

She led him to sit down on the sofa, lowering herself next to him. 

"It was Marnie's idea......for appearances sake." She said softly. "The name she chose was purely coincidence, I swear. She didn't know. She just picked it at random......."

"But I don't understand.......why did you have to be married? And what did Marnie have to do with it? I knew it! I knew she knew something......but she refused to tell me! How could she?"

"Randall, she was protecting me! They hid me down here. Helped me. They've been visiting me......her and Hector. I went to Hector for help, that day you saw us in the meeting room......and put two and two together and made five! Then I went to Marnie. They've been the most stalwart of friends. Without them I wouldn't have had anywhere to go. And I couldn't possibly stay in London, or at the BBC." 

She rose then, still holding his hands. Swallowing nervously, she made to move away, but he held her fingers tightly. 

"Randall. Sit there. There's something I need to show you. Don't move, I'll be back in a moment." 

Dropping her hands reluctantly, Randall let her go. 

She was gone some minutes. Whilst he sat, his thoughts in such a muddle, staring blankly at the fireplace.  
At a movement behind him, he turned his head. 

Standing in the doorway. A tiny sleeping bundle cradled in her arms. 

Randall stood up rapidly, first staggering back, then darting forward. 

"There's someone here who has been very much wanting to meet his father." She said, her voice filled with barely suppressed emotion. 

He peered into the blanket, then at Bel, then back at the small sleeping face, then back at Bel again. 

"This is your son." She whispered. 

The tears that ran down Randall's face were ignored. His hand trembled as it came up and touched the child, who stirred slightly in his mother's arms. 

"Would you like to hold him?" She asked gently. 

The look that Randall Brown gave her, was one of such intensity, filled with such love, a depth of adoration she'd never seen before in her life, and yet he'd said no words, just shaking his head in disbelief. 

Lifting her elbow she handed the infant to him, cradling his head with her hand to support it, as he took the baby in the crook of his arm, looking down into his cherubic face. 

He touched a cheek tenderly with the top of one finger. 

_"Oh God! He has my mouth......"_ He muttered, then his voice gave and he began to sob. 

Clutching the child to his chest, his head bent down over the little body, rocking to and fro as he wept. Before flopping down heavily on the sofa. 

Bel knelt at his knee, her hand resting on the top of his bowed head. Stroking soothingly. Silent, but for his weeping and the crackle of the fire. Allowing him to vent his feelings.

oOo

Half an hour later, Randall was still seated on the settee. His baby son still held tightly in his arms. Not willing to relinquish him for a second. 

A pot of tea on the table in front of him on a tray. 

But his eyes were fixed on the child, dragging them away only to gaze at his mother. 

"What have you called him.....is he registered?" He asked. 

"His name is Frederick Laurence. I have another week to register him, I'd been putting it off and putting it off, he's five weeks now." 

Randall swallowed back another sob. 

"My middle name is Frederick." He said quietly. 

"I call him Freddie. It seemed right somehow.....that a little bit of Freddie should continue. And Laurence to remind me of the first, and last, time you took me out......to see Olivier." 

"We can register him together. Tomorrow. He will have my name." He said firmly. 

At the sound of his voice the infant opened his eyes, and grunted slightly, starting to wriggle. 

"Are you hungry little man?" Randall said, bending his head down towards the smooth forehead and kissing it tenderly. 

He looked up at Bel, standing beside him, looking down. 

"He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He said, quietly. "Apart from his mother." 

"Shall I take him? I'll change his bottom before I feed him......I'd let you feed him, but I'm still feeding him myself at the moment so I have no bottles ready........and he's such a little piggy!" 

Randall handed his son over, but followed Bel upstairs to the room she used as a nursery. Watching as she peeled off his knitted suit and took a new nappy, expertly folding it into a triangle and exposing the little peachy backside. Washing, powdering and creaming, with deft movements, the safety pin between her teeth. 

The little one was fully awake now, gurgling and kicking his chubby legs. His father looking on, dumbfounded, yet fascinated.

"There! All done! Come on....you! Bruiser boy! Look at him.....he's all excited!" She laughed, turning to look at Randall as she picked him up. 

"Oh Bel! It's unbelievable.......he's really and truly mine........my little boy." 

"Our little boy!" She smiled gently, and reached over their son, to kiss his father. The kiss was tender and long, until the child between them made its presence felt. 

Seating herself in the sofa corner, she began to unbutton her blouse. Randall coloured with embarrassment and made to turn his face away. 

"Shall I go.......?" He began. 

"Randall.......no.......come here......." She gestured to him and he came shyly to her side. 

She opened her clothes and put the baby to her breast, as Randall gazed at them both, mesmerised, a lump in his throat.  
The child immediately latched on and began to suckle noisily. Making little mewling noises of satisfaction as he did so. 

"Later, I'll express some milk into a bottle......then you can feed your son........if you'd like?" 

"Well......how long should I stay?" Randall glanced at his wristwatch. "I have a room at a The White Hart.....all my things are there......" 

Bel, removing the child from her nipple, sat him forward to rub his back. Then laid him down beside her on the cushion. 

She took Randall by the lapels of his jacket and held them firmly. 

"Randall......don't you dare go all knight errant on me! I don't want your chivalry......we slept together......I've given birth to your child for goodness sake.......you are staying right here. I don't care for gentlemanly conduct, I don't give a damn about convention, or appearances. You are not going anywhere! In fact if you leave.......don't bother coming back........I want you here......with me......beside me. I don't want to be apart from you again." 

"If you're quite sure......won't people talk?" He answered, with concern. 

"Randall......they think you're my husband........." 

"Yes. Yes......of course, I'd forgotten........I'll stay then.......I'll go to the telephone box......ring the inn. Go back in the morning and collect my cases......and my car." 

Bel picked up Freddie and turned him, ready to take her other side, exposing the roundness of her breast and letting him nuzzle against her warmth. 

Randall bent and held the little clenched fist, kissing it, then leaning in to kiss Bel's mouth sweetly. 

"I never really believed in God." He said his lips close to hers. "But there's some higher power at work here. For sure." 

"Amen!" She whispered and settled herself back into him, the little fair head cradled against her chest.


	17. Love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall and Bel are finally together. No holds barred. In love and not afraid or ashamed of it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
LOVE. 

Waking the following morning seemed so strange. 

Not being alone. 

Randall was still sleeping. Since his clothes and all his goods and chattels were at The White Hart, he was gloriously naked. 

Bel was curled against his skinny chest. His arm holding her firmly in place. 

Their first evening ever spent together as a little family. A profoundly affecting situation for Randall. 

Sitting across the table from her, sharing a meal. Talking quietly. Nothing hidden, nothing held back. No secrets. 

"I had a daughter......her name was Sophia." He opened with, honestly. 

"Had? Was?" Bel responded, reaching for his hand, her expression one of nothing but sympathy and love.

"She was killed, Bel. In Paris. During the war. I found out comparatively recently. I knew nothing of what happened to her, but I had been searching for a long time. Just as I had with you.....I couldn't give up on her either......not whilst there was a slim chance. Finding the truth broke me for a while there....."

"I'm so sorry for your loss Randall. It must have been devastating. Lix must have been distraught too, although she hid it well." Her voice was soft, kindly, not a trace of envy or malice. 

"Lix?" His eyes opened wide.

"Yes. I assume that is the big thing between you, I always knew there was some frisson. It makes sense. You had an affair. She bore you a child.....I'm assuming you weren't around, and so didn't know where she was or what had happened?" 

Randall frowned. 

"You assume a great deal." He remarked. 

"It's not so very unusual. War separated and threw together a lot of people Randall. It blighted hundreds of lives. At least your child had a stable loving environment, even though her life was short. I'm glad you told me about her. It also explains a great deal, as to why Lix was somewhat hostile towards me." 

"We were in Spain. Before the War. It was another lifetime ago. I'm not proud of what happened, but I can't change it. I don't think she was jealous Bel, she doesn't love me. I'm not sure she ever did. We were thrown together, in exceptional circumstances. But she felt I was making a fool of myself over you.......and yet, in the end, she helped me to realise......" 

"One day I'll thank her for that." Bel mused quietly. 

He nodded, sagely. Then cocked his head to listen as a little cry came from the crib upstairs. 

"Someone's awake." She smiled, rising from the table. 

"I'll go." He replied, staying her hand. 

When Randall fetched his baby son, there were tears in his eyes again, as he returned to reseat himself in the kitchen.

"Here! I've warmed a bottle. You can feed him if you'd like?" Her smile was so meltingly warm that Randall had difficulty swallowing the lump in his throat. 

The gratitude with which he took the bottle from her outstretched hand, affected her deeply in return. 

"You missed out on Sophia's life Randall. But you can be a part of Freddie's. As much as you want." 

"Look!" She said, watching them together for a few seconds. "He's quite happy to take his milk from his Daddy." 

At the sound of that word, she saw the man jolt slightly. 

She touched Randall's hair gently, letting her fingers comb through it slowly. As both his hands were occupied, he could do nothing to prevent it, but leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed. Breathing in a deep juddering sigh.  
"Don't stop." He murmured. 

"To think, that but for my own stupidity, I could have lost you and him too.....just as completely as I lost Sophia. Lix was never mine to lose, but the child.......the child was every bit as much mine as hers." 

"Well you didn't. You're here, and Freddie is yours, and that's all that matters." She leaned down and kissed him tenderly, his face turned upwards, her fingers under his chin, drawing him towards her. 

Once the babe was settled, she joined him on the sofa. He opened his arms to welcome her to his side. 

"Take me to bed Randall. Properly. Not urgently, not desperately or moments stolen, not like you did with Lix, or with your wife, but like you really mean it, like you want me, like you love me......."

Without words, he stood, holding a hand out to her. 

"Come......" He said gently. 

In contrast to the previous time, their coming together was slow and sensual. No less passionate, but deeper, more intense.  
Undressing each other, taking their time. No fumbling, no awkwardness. Kissing, touching each other intimately. A flurry of gasps and whimpers from both of them. 

There was a gentleness about Randall tonight that Bel found more than erotic. A softness, a serenity. A sense of belonging, of coming home.  
It was a stark difference from his ordered and meticulous workaday self. 

This was a man in complete control but without his usual effort. 

Feeling his hands on her, his searching fingers, the sweetness of his kiss and the accomplished way he found the spots that made her moan for him. 

Laying her back carefully, cradling her in his encircling embrace, positioning himself so that she could feel the length of him against her core.

When he took her, it was so different than before. He truly made her his own.  
There was no rush to completion, but instead a strong and sensual feeling of him filling her. His desire powerful but not overtly forceful. Giving himself time to pleasure her, and himself. Building up to a gradual crescendo.  
Moving within her, with each penetration a whisper of his need for her, his lust tempered and drawn out until she shuddered beneath him, in a series of gasps, clutching his buttocks with her hands. Wrapping her legs around his body, to take him as deep as possible.  
Her head thrown back, his face close to hers.  
So wonderful, to look into his eyes properly, without being hidden behind his spectacles.  
Alive with excitement. On fire. His pupils dark. 

His breathing ragged, little grunts of satisfaction coming from him. Laying his weight down onto her, as she held him in place. Stroking his back, kissing against the taut sinews of his beautiful throat and neck. 

Then sleeping.

Deeply. 

Wrapped together. 

Peaceful. 

At five am their very own small human alarm clock sounded.

Bel separated herself from Randall with difficulty, he just as reluctant to let her go. Watching as she left the room. 

Transfixed by her nude body. Curvaceous, gloriously feminine. Her breasts heavy with milk. Her hair lose and flowing. The line of her spine, her slim legs, the slight roundness of her stomach. 

She was back in a very short time. 

Hungry babe squalling in her arms. 

Randall sat up, plumped the pillows. 

"Come here Bel.......like this!" He patted the space in front of him. 

She crawled in and sat between his legs as he propped himself against the headboard.  
Leaning herself back supported against his chest.  
Young Freddie cradled on her left elbow, her hand on his little nappy padded bottom.  
Randall nuzzled his nose into her neck and ear, as the tiny mouth began to suckle. Placing his own large hand with its long fingers, around the little fragrant head, held there in the crook of her arm. 

He murmured into her cheek. 

"Marry me, my beautiful Bel. Be my wife. Let me give you every ounce of the love I feel for you now, and for our son."

She twisted her head round as far as she could, to look at him. 

"Is that a proposal?" She asked. "Are you going to make an honest woman of me?" 

She gave a slight smile.

"If you'll have me. I know I'm a fool Bel. And the thought of you going through all this last few months and the birth, without me there, and without feeling you could come to me, galls me in the extreme. I can't turn back the clock, I can't go down on bended knee, but I can bloody well make amends..........if you will consent, you'll make me the happiest man. I love you, and him.......more than I can possibly say." 

"Then I accept. I will be your wife. I love you too Randall. I always have. I've longed for you all this time, so desperately." 

She looked down at the infant, oblivious as it was to everything but his mother's warmth and sustenance. 

"I know I'm far too old for you, and people will frown. But I'll love you until my last breath. I swear." 

His fingers commenced stroking his child, his cheek resting against Bel's.

"I don't care Randall. I've never cared. People can say and think what they like. I'll marry you willingly. You'll make me the happiest woman too, because you are all I want. All I've ever wanted, you, and now this little treasure." 

oOo

Bel Rowley came downstairs to her kitchen still in her dressing gown, to find a strange man sitting there. 

She had to stop and pinch herself for a moment. 

Seated at her table, with a pot of coffee in front of him. Dressed only in his open shirt and his underpants. 

Bare feet. 

Hair delightfully unkempt and looking ten years younger because of it. Softer somehow, less severe and restrained. 

Relaxed, more so than she'd ever seen him. 

He glanced up as she entered, and gave her a smile which made her heart thump wildly in her chest. 

Pushing his chair back from the table, to a gasp of surprise from him, she seated herself across his lap. Arms around his neck. Looking intently into his eyes. 

"This!" She whispered, her lips close to his. 

He raised his expressive eyebrows in puzzlement.

"This?" He said quizzically. 

"This is what I want! Waking with you, sharing breakfast in the morning, holding you, being able to kiss you whenever I want to. And just look at you......"  
She held his face between her hands, squeezing his cheeks until he started to laugh.  
"You're so beautiful.......THE most beautiful, your eyes, your mouth.....which you've given to our son, your legs.....your.....well, you know......!" Randall laughed shyly again. "Your hands, everything about you......I'm so lucky!" 

His arms tightened around her middle, his lips touching hers, teasingly. 

"Oh no! I'm the one who's lucky. How have I captured your heart?" He leaned away from her, to look into her face earnestly.  
"Why do you love me? Goodness knows! But I'm not going to waste precious time to analyse it....I'm just going to accept it, and enjoy it. My wife to be......the perfect woman, a wonderful mother.......what more could I ask for?"

They kissed for some moments, before breaking apart. 

"Would you like breakfast, husband to be.......?" She asked, with a little bow of her head. 

Randall laughed again. 

"I thought I'd already had it?" 

Bel giggled.  
Squirming free of his embrace she stood up, moving across the kitchen, she took a pan and broke some eggs into it, whisking them with a fork.  
Randall, not to be thwarted, followed her, standing at her back, threading his arms around her middle, his mouth latching on to her neck, pecking her with kisses, then blowing a raspberry there.  
Bel shrieked and wriggled.

"No! Randall! Stop......eeee! Stop!" Their combined laughter mingling, their bodies close. 

The two were suddenly struck into silence by the distinct impression they were no longer alone. 

Margaret Baker stood in the kitchen doorway, a loaf of bread in her hands, her jaw on the floor in utter astonishment. 

Randall coloured crimson, and jumped away from Bel as if stung. Then looked down at himself in his déshabillé. Staggering backwards and attempting to conceal his bare legs and exposed chest behind the kitchen table.

The vicar's wife seemed to find her voice. 

"The.....er......the door was open......." She stammered. 

Bel collected herself, and walked towards her friend, placing a hand on her arm. 

"Maggie.....it's fine......." She turned to Randall, and gestured towards him. "This is Randall......MY Mr Brown, and your prayer has been answered." 

Randall made to stand and shake hands, then realised that in doing so, it was perfectly clear he was in his underwear, his bare chest there for all to see, and sat back down again hurriedly. 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Maggie!" He smiled awkwardly.


	18. Official.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall and Bel's big day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts about Randall and sex.......he's old fashioned.....I'm guessing pretty conventional and not terribly adventurous.  
> I doubt he's had a lot of sex, his affair with Lix was brief, his marriage briefer, and founded more on affection than love, I'm guessing that after his wife's demise there wouldn't have been 'a lot of it about'. That's a lot of years of going without! 
> 
> Of course people had sex in the fifties and sometimes out of wedlock, but in the repressed middle classes people seldom had multiple partners.  
> I doubt very much that he's ever 'done it' differently than the standard, 'man on woman', so Bel taking charge would be quite an alien concept!!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
OFFICIAL. 

Mr and Mrs Brown caused quite a stir in the small village of Lower Slaughter. 

The fact that they weren't Mr and Mrs at all was known to none but Maggie, and she wasn't talking. 

Suitcase, bags and car collected from Stow, Randall was officially in residence with his 'wife'. 

Most people in the village were astonished. Since several were of the same opinion as Mrs Young, that Mr Brown didn't actually exist.  
Some were still gossiping that he wasn't her husband at all, but was actually her father, but that rumour was soon argued down when it became perfectly obvious that her father he most certainly was not!  
One didn't hold hands with one's father, or kiss him in the street, OR call him darling! 

No, it had to be admitted, almost with some disappointment, that only not was Mr Brown real, but it was also blatantly clear that he and Mrs Brown were very much in love, despite the fact that there must be at least twenty years difference in their ages. 

Neither Randall nor Bel cared a fig for the village chatter. 

Together they headed off for Cheltenham the next day.

There little Frederick Laurence Brown was duly registered and made official, and an application made for special 15 day dispensation for a Marriage Licence at the registry office. 

A telegram dispatched to The Madden's.

_Brown to Madden. 10th November 1957._

_Come to Slaughter STOP Marriage of Rowley to Brown STOP 2pm 25th Nov Cheltenham Registry STOP Need witnesses! STOP Surprise! xxx STOP_

oOo

One tiny part of Randall wanted something more tangible and 'proper' for Bel than the rather indecorous and 'no frills' ceremony that the registry office had to offer. It didn't matter much to him, he'd had the 'full works' before the War, carnation in his buttonhole, 'bells and smells'. But Bel had nothing, and it seemed wrong to him somehow. 

In his eyes, although Bel assured him she was hardly deserving of virginal white and wasn't in the least bothered anyway, she was missing out on every young woman's idealised 'Big Day'.  
The dress, the flowers, bridesmaids, and all the trappings of a proper wedding. No amount of dissuasion on her part could convince him. 

"Randall, darling, it's a piece of paper......I don't need all the other gubbins. It's not me. The quieter, the better. I don't want to look like a meringue! I never wanted a church wedding......I'm not particularly religious. And nor are you. You're a widower, and I'm an unmarried mother.....I don't think we really qualify!" 

"But it's so austere and unsophisticated, plain and drab. Don't you want something at least a little joyful. It's supposed to be a happy day!" Randall moaned. 

"Let me speak to Timothy and Maggie. Maybe they can come up with something." Bel replied, placing an affectionate kiss on her fiancé's lips. 

oOo

Hector and Randall were staying the night at The White Hart in Stow. Not much of a Stag night, but as neither man drank, it was never going to be a wild affair. 

"I think I'm a little long in the tooth for all that!" Randall observed.

But Marnie insisted. 

It was bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding. 

The two women and their babies were ensconced together, so not much of a Hen night either! 

It was the actual morning. 

Marnie fixing her friend's hair. 

"I couldn't believe it when I got the telegram." She muttered, her mouth full of hair pins. 

"I said to Hector.......what does she mean _'Rowley to Brown'?_ We didn't get it! The last person we thought of was Randall. WHAT a dark horse! No wonder he was so keen to find out where you'd gone! We were astonished!" 

Bel examined herself closely in the mirror. 

"I expect everyone is. We are not exactly the dream couple, I don't suppose....." She applied some lipstick carefully.

"Oh tush! Who cares! My darling girl......just seeing you together! You positively sparkle! So in love! It's delightful! Fie to the naysayers! You are as happy as two pigs in swill. Damn what anyone else says or thinks!" Marnie squeezed her shoulders firmly. 

"Oh Marnie! I do love him so. We seem to just fit together, like Jack and Jill. He was just meant for me. I was sure of it right from the start......I know he's older......but he's.......he's just wonderful!" 

oOo

Hector tied Randall's tie for him, since his shaking fingers seemed incapable of doing it himself. 

"Calm down old man!" He laughed. "Here, let me!" 

"God! Hector! I am doing the right thing aren't I? I feel like a silly bloody schoolboy!" Randall's face was deathly pale. 

"Do you love her?" He asked straight. 

"God yes! With everything fibre of my being......to distraction.....frighteningly, horribly in love with her! It's almost painful!" He replied earnestly. 

"Then what on Earth are you worrying about?" Hector clapped his shoulders. 

"That she's throwing her life away on me......that I'm not worthy of her......a thousand things...." Randall commenced pacing. 

"Randall! Stop. For goodness sake. That girl is more in love with you than I've ever seen anyone in love with anyone......she positively bloody glows with it! It's almost obscene, it's embarrassing......she's completely nuts about you.......lord knows why......you silly old fool! But there it is! Now come along! Gird your loins! It's time we were off! You don't want to be late.....she'll think you've stood her up!!" 

Once the brief ceremony was over and the couple exchanged rings and said their vows, with Hector and Marnie as witnesses, it was back to Lower Slaughter. 

Pausing only for a few photos, taken by Marnie with Randall's Leica camera. 

The Reverend Baker had arranged a private church blessing. 

Just the four of them, plus himself and his wife Maggie, who had kindly agreed to look after George and Freddie at the Vicarage whilst they were in Cheltenham for the civil ceremony. 

Randall and Bel stood facing each other at the altar. Their hands clasped. 

 

   
_"Randall and Isobel you stand in the presence of God as man and wife to dedicate to him your life together, that he may consecrate your marriage and empower you to keep the covenant and promise you have solemnly declared."_

 

This made it seem more real.....more personal, for both of them. Bel was suddenly very emotional. 

Marnie dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, as Randall, trembling, leaned forward and kissed his wife very gently. 

The two then turning, Bel with a beaming smile, coming down the aisle and taking her baby son in her arms, that he might be blessed too. 

As the four returned to the cottage, Randall suddenly grabbed Bel by the arm, preventing her from entering. 

"Where do you think you're going young woman?" He asked sternly. 

Bel looked at her new husband in confusion. 

"Hector......take Freddie please!" He ordered. Hector obediently moved forwards and took the baby from Bel's arms. 

Without further ado Randall swept Bel up into his arms, kicking open the front door, and carrying her, squealing with laughter, across the threshold. 

Hector and Marnie Madden, holding George and Freddie followed in their wake, mirth all round. 

It was several hours later, around nine pm, when Hector announced they were leaving. 

"But you can't go....you're staying here.....surely......this cottage is yours?" Bel declared. 

"Don't be ridiculous! We've a room booked at The White Hart. It's your Wedding Night.....the last thing you want is guests!!" Marnie chuckled and they began to collect their things together. 

oOo

Alone. 

Bel put Freddie down after his feed. 

"Quite a day!" Randall remarked, drawing his new wife close.

"A happy day." Bel replied, peering down into the cot, at their sleeping child. 

"A day I never thought I'd see." She added. 

"Come on Mrs Brown! I'm taking you to bed........I'm going to bed with my wife....." He said, as if testing out the phrase. 

Bel stood beside the bed, and he began to undress her tenderly. 

Any nerves he may have felt, were well hidden, Randall Brown was confident in this at least. 

"Stay still." He whispered. "Let me......" 

Lavishing all his attention on her, he unfastened her buttons, removing her blouse almost reverentially. The zip on her skirt followed, letting it drop to the floor.  
Petticoat lifted up over her head. 

Down on his knees in front of her he unclipped her suspenders and rolled her stockings down, one at a time, stopping only to kiss her here and there randomly as he divested her of all her clothes. 

Naked. Beautiful. 

When he began to do the same to his own garments, she batted his hands away, "now let _me_ "......taking his tie, loosening it for him, removing it, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Slipping his braces and trousers. Kissing his face, his chest, his neck.  
He kicked off his own socks and stood before her, in just his pants, tented out as they were by his obvious arousal. 

She slid her hand inside to feel him and his legs almost buckled at the touch, a little gasp of pleasure at the sensation of her fingers closing around him. 

"Lay down." She whispered. 

He obeyed, unable to keep his hands from her, or stop his mouth from wanting to play across her skin. 

On his back, she crawled beside him, then straddled his body, her legs either side of his hips.

"What are you doing?" He groaned, as he felt her wet heat against his hardness. 

"This." She murmured, and guiding him towards her entrance with one hand she sank down, taking his erect penis inside her, letting him fill her completely.

Randall let out a moan of ecstasy as she began to move, slowly at first, riding him, unable to stop himself thrusting upwards, burying himself deeper each time. 

"Oh good God! Bel!" He cried. Their hands found each others and joined, fingers entwined. His eyes locked on her, a vision above him, her mouth slightly open, breathing more rapidly as she drew closer and closer to completion, finally leaning down over his body as she came, dragging him over the edge with her, into blissful oblivion, his cries stifled by her mouth as she kissed him hard.

"Happy wedding day husband." She murmured, as Randall continued moaning aloud through the throes of the most powerful orgasm. 

Holding her against his chest almost crushingly tight. His head back, still panting for breath beneath her. 

"Wanton hussy!" He gasped, finally. "You don't want to give me a heart attack on my wedding night, do you?" 

"Perish the thought!" She purred, climbing from his body, and laying herself down beside him. 

"Lord! I think I've pulled something!" He winced, feeling his back with his free hand. 

Bel began to laugh.

"Well, that will be amusing when you tell the Doctor......" She giggled. _"How did you pull a muscle in your back Mr Brown?" "Well, Doctor, my wife was on top of me, making love.....I usually prefer the missionary position, but she likes to be more athletic, and I just simply wasn't up to it!"_

Randall rocked with laughter, and it made Bel's heart soar to hear it. 

"How dare you!" He snorted, pulling himself over her roughly, trapping her beneath his body, his hand between her thighs, pushing her legs apart firmly. 

"I'll show you who's not up to it!" He growled menacingly. 

"Oh! Mr Brown!" She giggled, then whimpered as his fingers found her sweet spot. " SO assertive, so powerful......"  
She arched herself towards his hand, crying out, her head back. 

"I think you'll find, I'm in charge!" He hissed, taking his own weight on his arms, so that he was positioned above her, before pushing inside her once more.  
It took him a little longer to reach his release this time, but in the process he made her wail out his name.  
Lifting herself to meet his deep thrusts, urging him on. 

Falling forwards onto her afterwards in most ungentlemanly fashion! Completely exhausted. 

Both breathing harsh and ragged. Bathed in sweat. They fell to kissing gently, as they came down from their mutual high.

"Don't ask me to do it again!" He panted. "I'm spent. Done for! You've worn me out on the first night! There's no hope for me now! How shall I satisfy a nubile young wife?" 

Mercifully, baby Freddie let them sleep in an extra hour, before they could hear his little grunts of hunger from the cot in the other room. 

"I suppose you'll soon want feeding too!" Bel chuckled to Randall as she left the marriage bed to fetch their son. 

Returning, she plonked him, unceremoniously into her husband's arms. 

"You can do the honours!" She smiled. "I'll go and prepare us some breakfast! All that exercise has made me ravenous!" 


	19. Second Time Around.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall is back at The Hour. 
> 
> Bel is seeing the Director General. 
> 
> The future beckons..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Peter children's programme began on the BBC in October 1958. It soon became, and is to this day, a British institution. Generations of children have grown up with it as part of their lives. The first presenters were Christopher Trace and Leila Williams. Unusually for the day, the editor was a woman, and a formidable one at that. Biddy Baxter molded and shaped the programme and made it what it was. Not always popular, but she had a vision and she damn well stuck to it. 
> 
> Bel is Biddy. 
> 
>  
> 
> The sailing references are basically me and my own parents, out on the estuary in the sixties, in our boat. Golden memories, of golden days. A bloody long time ago!

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
SECOND TIME AROUND. 

Lix Storm knew that Randall was back. 

She knew because, on walking in to their foyer all the chairs were straight, and the drawing pins on the board were neatly arranged in the bottom right corner once more. 

His three week holiday over already! 

She hoped he wouldn't still be mooning over lost love, and that the sabbatical had done him some good.  
Got on with his life. For the best. Water under the bridge and all that. 

She tapped on his office door lightly. 

"Come!" The familiar voice called. 

"Randall! Welcome back.....I........" 

She stopped short. 

Randall was busying himself arranging the items on his desk top, and looked up at her over the top of his spectacles. 

But oh, the change in him! 

What had happened? 

Everything about him, his stance, the light in his eyes, a little flush to his cheek, his movement. 

"Good lord!" She exclaimed, the words leaving her mouth before she had time to censor them.  
"What the hell happened to you?" 

Randall looked up sharply, but gave a little smile. 

"I don't know what you mean!" He retorted. 

Visibly flustered, Lix floundered for appropriate words, while her colleague waited patiently.  
Oh, but he was enjoying this! 

"Wales has done you the power of good it seems!" She tried. 

"I never got to Wales." He responded amiably. "I've been in the Cotswolds."

Completely baffled, Lix was about to ask what on earth was in the water of the Cotswolds that could possibly warrant such an alteration, when there was a commotion outside in the corridor. 

Many happy voices, squeals of joy and the sound of a burbling child. 

"Ah!" Randall said, moving around the desk, and coming towards the door. "It sounds as if my wife has arrived!" 

Lix Storm opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. 

"Your w.........?" 

Bel entered at that moment, radiant, a glow about her that Lix had rarely, if ever, seen.  
In her arms the most gorgeous, chubby, happy baby, dressed in a blue hand knitted cardigan and leggings, with matching ribbon tie bonnet.  
Randall went straight to them both, planting a firm kiss on the little rosy cheek, then taking Bel by the elbows and drawing her in towards him, in front of the whole assembled company, placing a tender kiss first on her brow, then her lips.  
The colour in his face shining with a mixture of the greatest pride and love. 

Hector, who was standing just behind Bel, was beaming with satisfaction, being the only one of the group 'in the know'. 

"Hello Lix." Bel said, quietly. "This is Freddie......"  
A little arm shot out towards her, a woollen mitten on a string, flapping out of his sleeve. 

Lix took the tiny hand in her own, for a moment. Then her face seemed to crumple slightly, and she hurried away.  
"Randall, take him!" Bel said urgently, handing their son over, before rushing after her friend. 

In the Ladies, Bel found one cubicle locked. Sniffles coming from inside. 

"Lix. Let me in, open the door." She called. The bolt shot back, and the door swung open.

She was sitting on the closed top seat. Dabbing her eyes. 

"Randall told me everything." Bel went down on one knee in front of her on the tiled floor. "About Spain, about you and he. About his wife who was killed. And about your daughter. I'm sorry Lix. So very sorry. For you both." 

Lix looked up, drying her eyes and attempting to fight back a fresh wave of tears. 

"I was asleep Bel. I hadn't heard a thing. All these years. No letters, nothing. So I pushed it away. Because I didn't want to think about what might have happened. I chose to think that she was happy, and free and living her life.  
But he came here, he found me, he woke me up. Why did he do that?" 

"Because he needed to know. Whatever the news, he couldn't give up. Just as he couldn't give up searching for me. It was inside him. Burning him. Eating him up, and he had to know what happened to her. Hope. It was all he had." 

"I assume he found you in the Cotswolds then?" She sniffed. 

"Yes. Purely by chance. His car packed up, just outside Stow. I was staying at the Madden's cottage nearby. They've been helping me." Bel placed a hand on Lix's arm.

"And the baby? Is why you left in such unseemly haste?" 

"Yes."

Lix laughed scornfully.

"Randall seems to have a habit of impregnating women then running away!" 

"Be fair Lix. You didn't tell him about Sophia. He had to find out via someone else. And I didn't tell him about Freddie.....I was the one who ran. He would no more have let me face everything alone than he would you.....had he known. We were both victims of our own circumstance." 

"He seems so happy.....I've never seen him like that, not ever." She raised her eyes to Bel's.

"He is. We both are. We know how lucky we are. Believe me!" She replied. 

"I'm happy for you too.......I am.......both of you.......please don't think I'm not. It was a bit of a shock, that's all......seeing young Freddie........Gosh! You called him Freddie! .........I'm glad.......it's fitting!" 

"It's Randall's middle name, Frederick. So it's doubly appropriate. Come out now, please Lix, and come and see him properly. He's such a happy little chap......so contented, you wouldn't believe.......and a real piglet! But he has a lovely disposition." 

"Like his parents then!" Lix smiled, and gave Bel a warm hug. "I wish you both nothing but joy, Bel.  
I can't believe the change in Randall. After all these years he has finally found peace." 

oOo

Isobel Brown left the office of Sir Ian Jacob with a smile on her face from ear to ear. 

Downstairs, the Hour was buzzing. 

Randall was in the booth, as Hector read the headline. 

_"Today in Pennsylvania, the first full-scale commercial nuclear facility to generate electricity in the_  
_US went critical._  
_The Shippingport Atomic Power station is the first of its kind, and holds 14.2 tons of natural uranium and is expected to produce 1.8 billion kilowatt hours of electricity over its lifetime......."_

 

Afterwards both men were talking together in Randall's office, when Bel knocked gently. 

"Come!" 

Bel peeped her head inside.

"Hello darling......how did it go?" He asked, making to rise, as Bel crossed first to kiss Hector on the cheek, then behind the desk to embrace her husband warmly. 

"I have good news and bad news......." She began, with a slight smile. 

"Don't tell me!" Hector interjected. "The old bugger won't have you back......"

"Not quite!" Bel said, quietly. 

"Oh hush Hector......let her tell it!" Said Randall impatiently. 

"I won't be coming back to The Hour." Bel confirmed. 

"I knew it!" Hector huffed crossly. "Bloody old dinosaur." 

"But......." She continued. "There's something I think will be eminently more suitable, and not so full on, from the point of view of working hours."

"Really?" Randall took her hand and held it, his thumb sweeping over the back gently. 

"Yes. A brand new programme. On Children's Hour. A magazine style, informative, innovative and specifically geared towards children, their interests, with news items and current affairs. Not pandering to them or patronising, but treating them like the real people they are......bright, intelligent and wanting to learn." 

"Sounds.......a hell of a challenge........" Randall said thoughtfully. 

"Oh....it will be and no mistake. It's going to be far removed from _'Muffin The Mule_ '......this is going to be groundbreaking. And they want me to produce and edit it.......it's going to be called _Blue Peter._ They already have Chris Trace on board as presenter, I think it could run and run." 

"This is wonderful! I'm so proud of you darling!" Randall came around the desk and hugged his wife tenderly. 

"We're going to need to hire a nanny for Freddie. For the days I'm at work. Gosh! I'm so excited about this. I can't tell you." She whispered into his shoulder. 

oOo

The sun was bright and warm with just the right breeze. 

As the ketch _"Eurybia"_ headed out of the narrow channel, Bel knelt aft with her small son held in front of her as she smothered him liberally in sun cream and fastened a hat to his little fair head. 

Randall was for'ard, standing on the cabin top, his shirt untucked and billowing in the wind, cap pulled low to shield his eyes, unlashing the mainsail. 

"Take the tiller Bel! Keep her starbu'd!" He called. 

Bel settled herself with young Freddie on her lap, steering the rudder skilfully between the marker buoys.  
Sporting cats eye sunglasses with a silk floral headscarf tied around her throat and blue jeans, she looked like a film star. Effortlessly chic, her husband thought.

Randall dodged the boom expertly and joined his wife at the blunt end, seating himself on the wooden bench beside her, the backstay held taut in his hand, leaving a free arm to wrap around Bel's shoulder. 

She leaned her head into him, with a contented sigh, nestling against his chest. Their young son, wedged between his two parents. Their faces turned into the breeze.

A wonderful sense of freedom, out on the water.  
All quiet except the sound of the gentle waves, the cry of a lone gull and the flap of the sail as it filled out and the bow drove serenly through the slight swell. 

"Happy?" Randall asked, bending to kiss his wife gently. 

"Completely!" She smiled up into his face, returning his kiss with interest. 

"You okay, champ?" He directed his attention to his little one, 8 months old now, who was squinting up at him grinning widely. 

The child babbled happily. Holding out his chubby arms to his father for a cuddle.  
Allowing him to thread them around his neck, Randall blew raspberries into the rosy cheek, extracting a fit of giggles.

"He's loving it!" Bel said, "Being out here. Bless him!" 

"I love it too. And I love sharing it with you and Freddie." Randall turned away, towards the sun, narrowing his eyes as they watered beneath the peak of his cap. 

Bel placed her hand over his, where it rested on her shoulder. 

"Don't Randall. Don't get upset. We are so lucky, you and I.........and littl'un here. And she's up there somewhere, your Sophia, looking down......and she's happy for us. I know it. Just as Freddie Lyon's life was cut short, but he'd be glad for us, and lives again, in our boy. His namesake. Neither of them would have wanted us to be miserable for the rest of our lives." 

Randall sniffed, and buried his head against the little body which clung to him. Taking a few deep breaths he resurfaced and gave his wife a tight little smile. 

"You're right." He replied firmly. "I do try not to dwell on it. But sometimes I look at this dear one....." He squeezed Freddie's cheek. "........and I look at you.......the most beautiful woman I've ever seen........and I just think I don't deserve to be this happy."

"Randall! Dearest! Of course you do! No one more than you. All you've been through, everything that's happened to us both.......I'd fight for that tooth and nail.......because you are my love.......without you there _is_ no happiness. You mustn't say that you don't deserve." 

"I make the most of every moment, Bel. Moments like these. They are so precious. There aren't enough of them, but I'll treasure every single one." He kissed his wife again. 

"We must do just that. Boy! We have a hectic week next week. What with The Hour pulling its highest ever ratings, and we have Hector, Marnie, Chris Trace and Leila Williams coming for dinner too. Exciting times. You haven't met Leila, have you? She's lovely. She'll be the perfect Blue Peter presenter with Chris. I can't believe the show will start in a couple of months.....I'm so nervous!" 

"It'll be magnificent, my darling. Just as you always are! I know it'll be a success. You will make it so." Randall looked proudly at his lovely wife.

"I'll certainly try my best. I'm worried though......am I being a bad mother? Working instead of being at home with my child? Having him taken care of by a nanny? Am I being selfish? Perhaps I should be content with having him, and you as my husband." 

"Darling, Freddie will be fine. It'll be a few hours a day, and not every day of the week. Why should you give up the job you love? As for me, I want my wife to be fulfilled and happy......and being at home all the time would make you bored and miserable. Besides.....it means I get to spent time with him too.......he sees more of me than I ever saw of my father, that's for sure!" 

"Well, you are more hands on than any other father's I know! Even Hector doesn't do all the things with George that you do with Freddie. He adores you too! Just look at him hugging you.......you'll have such fun together when he's a bit older......the best of friends!" 

Bel looked down at their son, still clinging to Randall's neck, their two cheeks pressed together. 

"We should head back I think.........tide's on the turn." He said, pushing his cap further back on his head.  
"C'mon Fred, back to mama.......Daddy's got to tack into the wind! Time to turn for home!" 

oOo

 

It was late evening. 

Bel was curled on the sofa, half dozing off, the radio was playing Alma Cogan _"Why Do Fools Fall in Love."_

Randall entered the living room, a cup of tea in each hand. 

He laughed on hearing the tune. 

"That's the truth and no mistake!" He smiled, handing one to his wife. 

"How's Freddie.....has he gone down?" She asked. 

Her husband nodded and joined her on the settee. 

"The fresh air has knocked him for six. He's soundo. No story and no lullabies necessary tonight!" 

Bel snuggled against him. The stillness about him soothed her, and she'd noticed how, lately, his 'fiddling' was less marked. 

"I love you so much Randall Brown. I love that you read to Freddie and sing to him. He loves it too!" 

"And I love you Mrs Brown. And my boy. But it's you that is my anchor. You are the one. The one who'd take the wheel if I lost control. I never thought I'd be lucky enough experience real happiness, I've been within touching distance, but it always eluded me, but now I know I have truly found it, the second time around."

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Thank you first and foremost to @misswinterseat to whom the story is dedicated.  
> It was she who came up with the story idea, which followed on so perfectly from the little ficlet I posted originally on tumblr for Randall Monday.....  
> .....and at a time when friendship was most needed, and most appreciated. 
> 
> I am in her debt. 
> 
> Thank you too, to all the people who messaged me, both here and privately and on tumblr posts to say how much they were enjoying the story, and offer encouragement and kind words along the way.  
> As always it is vastly appreciated. 
> 
> I feel the quality suffered a little and sometimes it's difficult to keep up a standard which I'm happy with. Still I hope it doesn't detract too much from the narrative.  
> I've tried to be as accurate to the time as possible, to give an authentic flavour of the Fifties. It was another time. Another world. But hopefully I've succeeded.  
> I also hope the story isn't too contrived. It's a romance.....pure and simple.....and I love a love story.......it appears I'm not alone in that!! Xxxxx


End file.
